


The Good Knight-Errant

by goddessdster



Category: Hot Fuzz (2007), hot fuzz - Fandom
Genre: AU, First Time, Like the movie, M/M, dragon - Freeform, mulit-chapter, possibly crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-06
Updated: 2008-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-06 08:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessdster/pseuds/goddessdster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sir Nicholas had not meant to offend his Lord so to be thrust out here in no man’s land against his better judgment and abilities.”<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Have you ever won a jousting tournament?”

 

“No. I do not joust.”

 

“Oh. How about fighting with two swords? Have you ever-?”

 

“No. That is quite difficult.”

 

“Oh.”

 

The two men stood in silence for a moment.

 

“How about monsters? Oh! Have you ever slayed a dragon?”

 

“No. There’s no such thing-“

 

“But Sir Garesh fought a white dragon in-“

 

“Sir Who?”

 

“From the story, _Sir Garesh and the White Dragon_.”

 

“That was just a story. For children.”

 

“I quite like that story.”

 

Sir Nicholas had not meant to offend his Lord so to be thrust out here in no man’s land against his better judgment and abilities. All he knew was he was now an official Knight in service to the Sheriff of Sandford (in the absence of the Lord of Sandford) and the surrounding areas. His Lordship had apparently the highest regard for the Sheriff, a genial enough man to be sure, but still the law of a village that was barely a smudge on the most recent maps.

 

His new squire, however-

 

“Have you ever heard the story of Sir Galahad?”

 

“No.”

 

“How could you be in the King’s courts and not hear that one? It’s got lots of fighting!”

 

“I didn’t have much time for fireside stories.”

 

His squire, the Sheriff’s son, was affable indeed. But not the caliber of rider he was used to accompanying a knight of his abilities. In all honesty, Nicholas was unused to having a companion at all, his previous assignations having been solo efforts for quite some time.

 

“But surely while you were in battle, you saw some amazing sights, Sir Nicholas.”

 

Nicholas sighed. He was a persistent man. His fellow knights who worked under his father treated him with much affection, and Nicholas could see why. He certainly had enthusiasm.

 

“I fought. It was battle.”

 

“Did you kill many people?”

 

“I…do not know that that’s an appropriate question.”

 

“I mean,” Daniel said, looking a bit chagrined, “Not many knights come back from war with so many medals we heard you’ve gotten, sir.”

 

“It was a violent time. I was proud to do my service. But I was also happy to return home.” This was, Nicholas was surprised to find, the first he’d admitted to himself this fact. He had not enjoyed his time at war, though it had been his duty to go where his Lordship commanded. As his service here, he supposed.

 

The air outside the castle gate was still. From their higher point in the village, Nicholas could see cook fires, and hear the ringing of the smithy in the distance. Other than that, the village may well have been sleeping.

 

“Is it true that if you push your sword in at just the right point, you can shove a man’s heart through his back?”

 

Nicholas clenched his jaw, but was saved from his retort by the approach of an old bent man.

 

“If it please you, sirs, my brooch is gone.”

 

Nicholas stepped forward. “Gone, good sir?”

 

“You mean missing,” Daniel said.

 

“No! Gone! Taken, I am certain.” 

 

A Thief in their midst! The palms of his hands itched at the thought of going to investigate…but no, he was stuck here at the gate until midday. He sighed. “The Sheriff will hear you out, I’m certain. Go ahead, sir.” He waved the man in and watched him shuffle past while wondering who would steal a brooch. Someone who looked so downtrodden wouldn’t have something very valuable, would he? But even the simplest piece of jewelry could be traded for something of value. Perhaps when he was finished here he could-

 

“I lost my lucky dagger once.”

 

Nicholas tilted his neck sharply one way, then the other. “Did you?”

 

“Yea. It was in a bin at Roper’s shop all along. Poor Old Man Blantard.”

 

He looked at Daniel, who was shaking his head, looking down. “He seemed quite certain it was taken.”

 

“Old Man Blantard? He hasn’t been certain of anything since his wife passed, poor man.”

 

“Well perhaps we should tell him to look in the bins at Roper’s shop, then.”

 

“Hey! Good idea, sir!”

 

Nicholas sighed.

 

**

 

Perimeter patrol was perhaps Nicholas’s favorite duty. It gave him the chance to ride, tour a bit of the countryside, and keep an eye on things while allowing his mind to think. The Sheriff, though, seemed to believe Nicholas needed companionship for his patrol and had insisted Daniel accompany him. Nicholas made it a point of riding ahead of the other man, keeping a sharp eye out for unwelcome…what, he didn’t know. Nothing seemed to disturb the quiet daily goings on of Sandford.  Occasionally he would hear Daniel call out a question to him, but he kept his answers noncommittal. He could not stop ruminating Old Man Blantard’s missing brooch. The Sheriff had believed it was simply a matter of misplacement, but Nicholas felt this was too dismissive. Not that he would say so directly to his superior.

 

It was full dark before they set up camp for the night. Nicholas enjoyed the chance to sit, though he loved riding horseback, for a moment and eat the simple fare Daniel had brought. He looked at his squire. The small fire deepened Daniel’s eyes. Nicholas allowed himself to relax a bit, staring into the glow.

 

“Andrew said you were injured, sir.”

 

Nicholas leaned back against his pack. “Which Andrew would that be?”

 

“The shorter one.”

 

“Ah. Well. I was stabbed.” He could see Daniel looking a question at him. “And yes, before you ask, it hurt. Quite a lot, actually.”

 

Daniel simply stared at him for moments longer, and Nicholas cursed himself again for not understanding better what he was supposed to be doing here. “Tell me, Daniel, do you often ride this route?”

 

“Yes, I suppose. About once a fortnight.”

 

“And do you never see anything that might lead you to believe there are looters hiding about?”

 

Daniel shook his head.

 

“Do you ever venture into the woods?”

 

The squire shivered visibly. “No. Never. There a witch in them woods.”

 

Nicholas scowled. The people of this village were certainly a superstitious and uneducated lot.

 

“And you can call me Danny, if you like. Everyone else does.”

 

It was not the first time Nicholas felt a tug of discomfort since arriving in Sandford. But there was some new element to this…feeling. He could not quite put his thoughts to it, but he knew the right course of action. He opened his mouth to answer, but could imagine the hurt it may cause, so instead, “I’ll take first watch. You get some rest now.”

 

**

 

Danny laid with his head on his pack and closed his eyes, but he was unable to sleep. Sir Nicholas stood with his back to Danny and the fire, looking into the woods. It seemed fitting to Danny that Sandford’s newest knight should be of the Order of Angelic Wings, for whether in sunlight or fire, Sir Nicholas’s yellow hair gleamed of inner purity. Danny studied the back of the man standing so resolutely on guard, though Danny could have told him there was nothing to guard against; the witch never ventured this far north. Though he was glad of the chance to openly watch the other man. Sir Nicholas was a mystery: a hero knight who did not boast. And there was the fact he always looked faintly miserable.

 

Danny has been watching Sir Nicholas since his first arrival in Sandford. These are the things he’d noticed:

 

Sir Nicholas does not drink mead, but prefers apple wine or cider.

 

Sir Nicholas can read.

 

Sir Nicholas wears his chainmail hauberk and mittens every day, even when just guarding the castle grounds.

 

Sir Nicholas does not partake in the loud crude games of the pub or village square, but did once participate in a day of tournaments, defeating all competitors in swordfighting, archery, chess, and horseshoes.

 

The other knights of Sandford do not like Sir Nicholas very much.

 

Danny thought Sir Nicholas the bravest, truest knight he had ever met. Danny chose not to share this opinion with anyone else.

 

Unlike the other knights of Sandford, Nicholas was not from the area, but had been sent from London. Danny could not imagine what Sir Nicholas’s life in London had been like, but he had many exciting images in his head tied up in battles over honor, rescuing fair maidens, and possible dragons. 

 

The last knight sent from London had scampered off after only a fortnight. And Sir Popwell hadn’t been nearly as…here Danny stopped. He wasn’t certain what Sir Popwell hadn’t been in comparison to Sir Nicholas, but it was a thing to be sure.

 

He wanted to be a knight like Sir Nicholas one day. Proud, skilled, honorable, and…faintly miserable.

 

It didn’t seem knights did the things he’d heard about in his stories. Danny had been collecting knight stories his entire life. Every traveler who came through Sandford had some tale to tell or another. Most of them involved fighting. Some were a bit bawdy, and made Danny blush somewhat, but also with a tinge of envy. But Sir Nicholas didn’t regale everyone with his tales of warfare and bravery, and Danny could not imagine he would share anything of his more personal adventures, and yet, Danny saw a shining rightness in him. Lucky for Danny, his father had insisted Sir Nicholas take Danny along on his patrols. Danny only wished he could stop himself from talking so much.

 

The night was chilled and the fire small, but Danny settled in and closed his eyes. At least he hadn’t told Sir Nicholas all about the witch. How she found her lost wanderers, or how her shack never seemed to stay in one place. He would wait for the knight to ask him next time, instead of nattering on about dragons and nonsense. Tomorrow he would be a proper companion to a knight of Sir Nicholas’s standing. 

 

**

 

Pages rush forward to help them dismount and take their horses, but Sir Nicholas waves his off, though not unkindly, and Danny notices the wink of a penny tossed to eager hands.

 

“Sir Nicholas, would you care—“ no, no, too formal. Sir Nicholas was proper, but he wasn’t quiffy. Danny tried again, glad his initial effort was lost in the scuffle of horses hooves.

 

“Care to come to the pub, sir?”

 

“I need to groom Lily.” The knight’s tone was flat, but he ran his hand down his horse’s flank with affection.

 

Danny decided not to be put off. “One of the pages would be happy look after such a fine horse, sir.”

 

Sir Nicholas gave him a slight smile. “She is lovely, isn’t she? I prefer to care for her myself.” At that he led Lily deeper into the stables.

 

Danny sighed, but not too disconsolately. Turned down again, and it did sting a little, but only the smallest amount. Sir Nicholas had smiled at him. A tiny one, to be sure, but even the slightest crack was a possible invitation to open the door.

 

 

**

 

Nicholas touched his lips with fingers that smelled pungently of dirt and horse sweat. Lily shuffled, nuzzling the hay in front of her, and he patted her neck before wiping it with his rag. Unusual enough for him to have a mare as his battle horse, but Lily came from excellent breeding stock. She was beautiful and strong, and Nicholas had no doubt she would carry him into anything safely. Caring for her was one of his few pleasures and brought calm to his mind.

 

One of the pages, Dorin, passed by with Daniel’s steed, Gawain, named apparently after some fictional knight of heroic deeds. Daniel and his heroic deeds. Nicholas tried to remember a time when he was so enamored of fantasy, when his life wasn’t about duty and honor, battles and chivalry. Fantasy has no place in his life, and he would do well to correct Daniel of this childishness. There may be something in those woods, but it certainly was no witch. Right now, he had some questions for Mr. Blantard.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**  
If he had taken two seconds to think, he would have realized his mistake in going to the pub to look for Daniel. But at the time, he had felt so full of certainty. He had been missing a sense of purpose for some time now, and had been ready to re-saddle Lily and leave that instant. But his new squire would be disappointed, to say the least, to find Nicholas had left on an “adventure” without him. 

But when he stepped into the warm crowded room, he felt the instant change. He was given a slightly predatory smile from Simon the Skinner, in the corner with Tom the Weaver. Nicholas had met the village elders his first night in Sandford and found them an odd lot, but quite involved in the well-being of their community, and that was commendable. He’d seen too many townships fall into ill repute, harboring brigands, and requiring the presence of knights to keep the peace. 

He roamed the dim pub for Daniel, mindful of the clumps of villagers giving him looks that ranged from friendly to wary. The giant corner hearth fire gave the air an orange glow and made the room a tad stuffy. It was when he bumped into the Sir Andrews, two insolent knights, similar to those he’d encountered in the King’s court, more concerned with courting young ladies than upholding any sort of code, that he realized his mistake in coming.

“Well if it isn’t Sir Nicho-lass,” one said.

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Did you talk to Mr. Blantard?” he asked.

“No. And we’re not about to,” the other one said.

“What exactly is your issue with me, Sir Andrew?” His question came out as a bark, but his patience was near nonexistent around these two.

“Nothing. I don’t have an issue with you, Sir Nicholas. Do you have an issue with Sir Nicholas, Andy?”

“No, no issue at all, except for the fact that Sir Nicholas is treats the rest of us as no better than Mary’s dog.”

“There’s that, and I hear he is a blasphemer as well.”

“A what? I’ve never-“

“Oh and he prolly thinks he can tell the Sheriff how to do his job.”

“I was merely suggesting that if people say items are missing from their homes, we should investigate it!”

“No. We should investigate it, if the Sheriff commands. And he hasn’t, has he?” Sir Andrew (the shorter) leaned in a bit close to Nicholas, whose hand went almost automatically to his short sword at the implied threat.

“Sir Nicholas! You changed your mind!” Daniel’s pleased voice cut through the invective about to exit Nicholas’s mouth—perfect timing, he had to say. And unlike the now small crowd of knights and guards surrounding the three of them, Danny looked happy to see him.

“Ah, Daniel, yes. I…” Nicholas glanced around. Several of the village elders had silenced their conversations and the dim room gave off an air of expectancy. What they were expecting exactly, Nicholas had no clue. He refused to fight a fellow knight simply because he was disliked. He knew the “blasphemer” insult was meant to provoke just that, but he was spared having to react by Daniel, who companionably grabbed his arm and dragged him to a table.

Daniel, who he’s thought of as little better than a stable page. Though certainly not as bad as Mary’s dog (whoever that is). Daniel, pleased to see him.

“Get you an apple wine, sir?”

Nicholas felt shame down to his toes. He was supposed to be better than this, than petty insults and superiority. “Perhaps some mead…Danny.”

Danny smiled and waved over his shoulder to the barmaid (Mary, Nicholas remembered), and two mugs appeared before them by unseen hands. Nicholas moved to remove a coin from his pouch, but Danny pushed his hands away.

“My offer, from earlier. You remember?”

Nicholas could only nod curtly. Every evening since he’d arrived, Danny had invited him and he’d refused. He took a healthy swallow of his mead. “Danny,” he started, but found his voice rough. How long had it been since he’d simply talked with another man?  
“Tell me more about this witch of yours in the woods.”

Danny’s smiled faltered and he looked into his mug. “Just some superstitious nonsense, right, sir? Not fitting conversation for a proper knight.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean if I’m to be a knight, I need to be thinking about more important things, such as memorizing the code of chivalry. I’ve gotten as far as Never attack an unarmed foe.” Danny giggled a bit, an unusual sound from a grown man, but strangely fitting.

“Well…that’s good, Danny. That’s important. But a more important part of knighthood is helping those in need.”

“As in Mr. Staker and his missing sheep?”

“Er…yes.” Blasted sheep. How far could they wander? “But…I was talking to Mr. Blantard earlier. You know, he’s not so doddering as many believe.”

“Yea?”

“And he says Mr. Townman has also recently lost his mother’s rosary, and Missus Greenyard her father’s signet ring.”

“Is part of bein’ a knight always thinking?”

“Not if you ask my compatriots, no.” He traced the lip of his mug while considering his next words. 

Danny smiled at him. “Don’t get me wrong, sir. I think it’s a good thing.” 

“You do?” This was new.

He shrugged. “I’m just curious, you know, if you ever…stop?”

Nicholas drew in a breath. “And do what, exactly?”

Danny gestured around him and Nicholas followed his meaning. The others in the room were laughing, gossiping, flirting, singing songs he did not even know the words to. In some corner, Sir Anthony engaged in quiet conversation with his wife. In another the Sheriff chatted amiably with the town surgeon. And it was a brief moment, to be sure, but a moment of wistful feeling did take him over before he shook his head. 

“I believe we need to enter the forest.” Nicholas became aware of the low murmurs around them and leaned in toward Danny. “Perhaps there is a thief hiding there. We need to find this person, Danny.”

Another giggle, more nervous than happy this time. “When?”

Tonight, he wanted to say. Now, he wanted to say. Then it occurred to him entering the forest in the middle of the night may not be for the best, not for their safety, if there truly was someone there, and certainly not for Danny’s nerves. “Tomorrow. First light.”

Danny nodded. “Right.”

“Right,” he said and smiled, hoping to calm the other man. “So. This witch. Is she very ugly?”

Danny brightened immediately. “Oh quite, sir. They say she has six toes on her left foot. She acts as if to help a man, but she always directs them deeper in the wildest part of the wood. And when they’re good and lost, she finds them through her secret witch powers and stuns them with her evil magics.”

Nicholas fought a grin. “And then what does she do?”

“Eats them?”

His face looked so hopeful at that thought, Nicholas had to laugh. Another round was ordered.

**

Danny whistled his mother’s favorite tune when he entered the stable. He collared his page. “Dorin, make certain Sir Nicholas’s Lily is well groomed this morning. And check her shoes.” He was unused to barking orders to the pages, but he awoke this morning as dawn was first entering the sky ready for adventure. Even scary, possibly evil, danger. He was determined to beat Sir Nicholas to the stables to prove his readiness and had packed quickly.

Of course his riding partner had beaten him there, and was pulling on his gloves. “Daniel, I’m afraid our plans for the day have changed,” he said without looking up.

Danny’s heart thudded once and hard. After the previous night’s friendly conversation, Danny had hoped—but perhaps the habit of propriety was too much a part of the knight.

But then he saw his father and the Andrews in the tack room. “What’s happening?”

“Ah, Danny. I’m afraid Widow Marsten’s boy ran off last night. Probably over to Buford Abbey, but I promised her I’d look into it.” His father looked sorry, at least.

“Another?” Danny asked. Both his father and Sir Nicholas gave him sharp looks. Danny ducked his head. “I mean, you need us to go ‘round and talk to anyone?”

“No, no, son. I have the Sir Andrews heading over to the neighboring towns, and Sir Robert asking around here. I need you and Sir Nicholas to keep an eye on the castle today.”

Their adventure! Danny felt as if someone had taken away his favorite toy. Now he understood why Sir Nicholas looked so faintly miserable and determined. He saw Dorin peering around the corner with Gawain and Lily at the ready and took a deep breath. “No need for the mounts today, Dorin,” he said knowing he sounded dejected.

He and Sir Nicholas walked across the grounds toward the front gate. The sun, now fully risen, glared down to match his mood. They each took a spot at the entrance, close enough to talk, but with enough distance to each pull their swords should attacking hordes come upon them. The expanse of lawn in front was quiet.

Nicholas gestured toward a figure walking toward town. “Why does that man carry such a large bag all the time?”

“You mean Mr. Treacher?”

“I suppose.”

Danny shrugged. “He always carries it.”

“But why? Does he need it for his work? It seems a bit suspicious, always wandering around with such a bag.”

Danny laughed. “Suspicious? Mr. Treacher?”

“Never mind.”

They stood there for a moment before Nicholas spoke again. “Danny, what did you mean earlier, ‘Another’?”

Danny tilted his head. He felt a bit irritated all of a sudden, though he couldn’t say why. “Boys run off sometimes. Probably looking for a bit of adventure.”

“This has happened before?”

“Yea?”

“Recently?” His voice was hard, Sir Nicholas. His voice was worried. And Danny had to look at him finally. At the furrow between his brows, and saw tired around his eyes. He wondered if the good sir ever slept.

“Last one was right after you got here, about a fortnight ago, I suppose. ‘Twas John Downer.” At Sir Nicholas’s confused look, he clarified, “He was one you caught stealing bread from Roper’s shop, sir.”

Sir Nicholas stared at him. “I—technically he did not steal that bread, though.”

“Oh, I know.” Danny smiled at the memory. The new knight had been touring the village his first day there. Missus Roper had grabbed young John by the arm as he’d snatched a small loaf when her eye had been turned. But Sir Nicholas, looking like the righteous knight he was, had paid the missus a penny for the bread and had sent John on his way, though the shopkeeper had been scowling. “I saw you,” he said to the confused look.

“Oh.” There was a pause. “How often has this happened?”

Danny screwed his face up thinking. It had been happening for some time. Perhaps since his mum had died, was when he remembered the first. It had been a friend of his, though his father had told him to stay away from the boy, who was older and given to mischief.

“Danny!”

“What? I’m thinkin’”

“It has been that many?”

“Well, not so much. Maybe two or so every half year.”

“Oh…well I suppose-“

“For going on 13 years now.”

“Danny, that’s extraordinary…that’s…do you mean to tell me up to fifty children have gone missing?”

Danny tried counting in his head, got lost. “Maybe less!”

“Do any of them return?”

Not a single one has returned it just now occurs to Danny. His expression must have been enough for Sir Nicholas, for his brow refurrowed in that thoughtful expression that has become so familiar. Now Danny wished he could remember the name of that first boy. His hair had been a pretty yellow, too, just like the man next to him.

“It probably means nothing, Sir Nicholas. Boys like adventure.”

“You like adventure, Danny, have you run away?”

“Well no, I-“

“And! John Downer was getting bread for his mother. Boys who worry about their mums do not just run away!”

“Perhaps he thought to find work somewhere?”

“And not tell his own mother? I think not.” Sir Nicholas’s tone was angry and tense and, Danny could not help but think, a tad scornful toward him. Why was he angry at Danny? Danny didn’t do nothing. “Tell me, Danny, do you honestly believe these children all ran away?”

“Well, I don’t know now, do I? Can’t go askin’ them, can I? And my dad says they just wanted-“

“Is that what you really believe?”

Danny looked down. He didn’t want to say what he really believed. But maybe after last night. He had been interested, hadn’t he? “Well…” he toed the ground a bit. “Well I think maybe the witch-“

“Oh, come now!”

“It’s possible, ain’t it?”

“No! It’s not possible. There is no witch in the forest, Danny, and you would do better, you would be a ‘proper knight’ if you could get that through your thick head!”

Danny’s body ran hot, then cold, and he felt sweat trickling under his jerkin. Thick-headed, of course. That’s what Sir Nicholas thought of him. He was just stupid Danny, couldn’t read, couldn’t shoot an arrow straight after forty paces, believed in fairy tales. He stared at the handsome angry face in front of him and blurted, “Now I can see why no one likes you. You think you’re better’n everyone!”

Danny didn’t hear if the other man answered, he was too busy running. Running away. The sun was hot on his neck and his legs felt stiff, but he didn’t slow until he reached the duck pond. And even then he couldn’t bring himself to stop, but instead paced around and around until his heart could slow.

**


	3. The Good Knight-Errant (3/10)

**

Nicholas returned to his quarters in the castle that evening, but could not get himself set to rights. He paced his tiny musty room from bed to chamber pot to door and back. It was on his second pass he noticed the ribbon on the table. He glared at it. He had won it after entering the long bow competition at Danny’s insistence. Danny. What was he to do with this man he simultaneously wanted to pull in and push away?

 

A witch! He actually believed there was some evil old woman wandering around the woods, stealing children. The children were missing, Nicholas was certain, not run away. Children who ran away took things. Surreptitious investigation this afternoon yielded these children had taken only the clothes on their backs. Children and missing items. A gold brooch, a rosary with the tiniest jewels in its cross, the signet ring of a grain merchant. Shiny trinkets, mostly. Not much.

Certainly enough to buy a loaf of bread or two for someone hiding out in the woods.

Nicholas started pacing again. Tomorrow. First light. He and Danny were going into those woods.

**

Nicholas found Danny in the stables the next morning, brushing out Gawain’s tail while murmuring to her, though he couldn’t hear what was being said. He squared his shoulders before approaching his squire, hoping to salvage this new thing in his life.

“Hullo, Daniel.”

“Morning, sir,” Danny said, his attention on his brushing.

“I hear there was a row between the Sir Andrews last night at the pub?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Nicholas bit the inside of his lip. His night had been late, replaying events of the past fortnight over and over. It was when he came to his heated exchange with Danny at the castle that his mind skittered. He took a deep breath.

“What I’m thinking is… witch or no, I do believe those children are in the woods, somewhere.” 

Danny looked up at him finally. “Oh?”

“Yes.” Nicholas smiled at his friend. “And we need to find them. Saddle up, Danny. It is first light and adventure waits for no man who does not seek it.”

“Fortune favors the brave, does it?” Said with a tentative smile.

Nicholas gave in to what he’d wanted to do since arriving and clapped Danny on the shoulder, knowing now he would not be shoved off. “Let us ride, my friend.”

**

Danny whistled the whole way to the woods.

He didn’t know where the happiness came from, being they were about to partake something potentially dangerous. Perhaps it was because they were about to partake in something potentially dangerous. To this point in his life, the most dangerous thing Danny had ever partook was a drinking game with one of the Andrews. Or possibly both of them; he cannot remember as he had won.

Minutes after they stowed their horses at forest’s edge, so as not to be heard clomping through the brush, Danny’s good mood flagged. Witch or no, a band of unruly boys living wild was dangerous. He crept behind Nicholas, stepping where Sir Nicholas’s feet had been, willing himself not to breath too hard.

He could imagine the intent expression on the man’s face by the fierce set of his shoulders, the slightly crouched, but silent, way he moved through the trees without disturbing a single branch. Danny’s mind conjured images of a lion on the hunt and shivered at the thought of being hunted by him. The forest was both noisier and quieter than Danny expected. Birdsong occasionally filtered through the air, but the absence of wind and the diminishing light as the brush grew denser gave the impression of quiet. Sir Nicholas stopped at times to closely observe a leaf or the forest floor. He would point out whatever he was seeing to Danny, and Danny would nod while thinking, ‘Branch. Leaf mulch.’

He was focused on his companion’s back, staying close enough to hear the hissed direction changes but with enough distance to keep from bumping into him when the sudden stops occurred. Sir Nicholas didn’t seem to like being touched, or was less comfortable with it than Danny was, he guessed. That was unusual in itself because the other knights were always grabbing each other and stuff. Danny grew up raised with the easy affection of his father’s guards, rowdy clapping hugs that had always warmed him. He couldn’t imagine hugging this knight. Or actually, he could, but he didn’t think it would be appreciated much. Though he couldn’t think of another person who looked to need a hug as Sir Nicholas.

And it was not too much to think about, Danny figured, but still occupied his mind enough so that when Sir Nicholas started running, he had to admit he was a bit taken aback. He stifled the urge to yell after his retreating back and attempted to follow. But it seemed every branch Sir Nicholas dodged poked Danny in the chest. And when the other knight started using the branches to swing his way through the forest, Danny simply shook his head in wonder and pushed himself to run harder than he ever had.

Which is how he ended up slamming into a solid back, knocking both men to the ground. He rolled off with haste and Sir Nicholas jumped up.

“Did you see it?”

Danny, fighting to catch his breath, could only shake his head. But the other man didn’t see him.

“Did you see it, Danny?”

“See what?”

“A black-clad figure. All hooded with a…” Sir Nicholas waved his hand over his head.

“Hood?”

“Yes! You saw it then?”

“No, all I saw was you taking off.”

Sir Nicholas pulled a face. “I’d never seen anything like it.”

“Witch?”

“No. No. Much too tall to be a witch.”

“Could be a tall witch.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t see it, it practically walked right in front of us and said howdy-do.”

“Well, I was behind you, weren’t I?  I’m not made of eyes.”

The other knight’s shoulders sagged as he peered in the direction they had been headed. “We’ve lost him now anyway.” Sir Nicholas gave him a perplexed look. “He moved so fast, Danny. As if he had four legs.”

“Ooh! Centaur!” And Danny should not have been surprised by the eye-rolling, but he grinned anyway. Nicholas leaned over with his hands on his knees and caught his breath while shaking his head.

“By the end of the day, you will try to convince me it’s a dragon as well.  Come on then. Let’s try to catch the trail.”

“Lead on, Sir Knight,” Danny said, still grinning.

**

They continued into the forest. Nicholas tried to keep his steps certain and silent, but Danny soon stopped and leaned against a tree.

“Oh maybe there’s nothing there, sir.”

“I saw it, though. I’m certain.”

“Perhaps it was just a shadow?”

Nicholas tried not to scowl, but he couldn’t deny there had been no sign of the black-hooded figure since they had first given chase. Danny sounded tired, and he felt hollow. The cool depth of shadow in which they currently stood was mysterious, he had to admit. It would be easy to believe phantoms lived here.

“Let’s just stop for a bit and rest. We’ll do no good getting lost.”

Danny sat at the base of the tree against which he was leaning. “I brought some bread and things.”

Nicholas smiled at him. “You think of every occasion. Food would be nice.” He sat next to Danny and took some bread and hard cheese, grateful for the chance to eat something, but his mind could not grasp how the black-hooded figure had slipped away so easily. The woods were silent, and his mind attempted to work out several scenarios, but none made sense.

“It’s my birthday today.” 

“Danny. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He received a small smile in return. “We had a quest to undertake, didn’t we?”

Nicholas felt a familiar shame flow through him. He did not want to be this kind of friend, one who ignored important events because of his own thick-headedness. Danny deserved better.

“After we eat we’ll head back.” Danny looked as if to protest, but Nicholas waved him off. “I’m certain whatever is out here will be here tomorrow. We’ll go to the pub and drink to your birth. I’ll go over some of the Code with you.”

“Oh that’s not necessary, sir”

“I insist. You want to learn the Code of Chivalry and the least I can do—“

“I meant, I finished that. Got all the way to _Loyalty to one's friends and those who lay their trust in thee_. Think I understand, that one,” he said, a bit shyly, Nicholas thought. “Now I’m learning the Rules of Courtly Love.”

“Oh, well that’s good to know, too.”

“I’m to number eight: _No one should be deprived of love without the very best of reasons._ I like that one.”

“Another fine choice.”

“Have you ever been in love, Sir Nicholas?”

Nicholas fiddled with his laces, straightened his vest, brushed crumbs off his knees. “I once thought so, but I believe I was wrong.”

“How could you be wrong about being in love?”

“I—“ he cleared his throat. “The lady in question did not understand my…attachment to my duty.” At Danny’s puzzled look, he continued, “She wanted someone who would write pretty songs for her, and partake in the pageantry and tournaments in her honor.” More lace fiddling, why do those things never stay straight! “I had a duty as a knight for my lord. One that did not involve flag bearing and poetry writing.”

“I am sorry”

Nicholas looked over at his friend, who did indeed look sorry. He quirked his lips. “Added to that…I was a terrible poet.”

Danny snorted out a laugh and looked at his own jerkin, brushing his hand over his generous stomach. “I think what you do is amazing.”

“What I do?”

“I mean, you…” Danny kept his eyes on his stomach, now seemingly unable to keep his own hands still. When he looked up, Nicholas felt as if the sun had broken through the trees and touched their very spot. They stared for a moment. Then Danny tilted his head away, breaking contact and Nicholas felt as if they had been touching and was suddenly left with a cold spot. 

“I mean, you are an amazing knight, bad poetry or no.”

Nicholas could not stop looking at Danny, willing him to look back, but Danny’s eyes were fixed on his pack. He shook his head and stood. “It matters no more, and neither of us is worse for it. She now has a fine knight who is willing to prance and joust and sing melodies to her at her whimsy.” He reached a hand down to Danny, who grasped his wrist with a surprised smile. “And I get to chase witches in haunted forests with you.”

“Witches or shadows, you mean,” Danny said, surprising another laugh out of Nicholas.

“Either way, it will wait until tomorrow. Let us go and celebrate your birthday.”

**

 


	4. The Good Knight-Errant (4/10)

**

Nicholas paused. Something was very wrong here. Birdsong, which had accompanied them for their entire journey, now absent, the forest stilled. Waiting, Nicholas could not help thinking. Danny stopped as well, when Nicholas put his finger to his lips, and gave him a curious expression, eyebrows raised. Nicholas turned to him unable to explain his sudden uneasiness.

The brush surrounding them came alive with thrashings. A dull roar filled the air and seemed to occupy all the space in Nicholas’s head as he looked around to pinpoint the origin of the noise. His eyes focused on a space behind Danny where the trees increased their frenzied movements.

“Danny! Behind you!”

Danny turned and raised his sword in time to strike a glancing blow on a shape that wasn’t so much running as flying through the branches at his head level. His sword glanced off something that then veered to the right to just miss Nicholas’s head. Nicholas raised his sword with both hands and brought it down in a perfect arc. His sword hit something heavy, with a thickness that caused reverberations to drive up his arm, but he didn’t allow the thrumming pain to stop him as he drew his sword out and down again. The blow made a wet thudding sound as the attacker dropped at his feet. Danny ran up, sword at the ready, but dropped to his knees when he saw their victim.

“It’s a—It’s a…,” Danny stopped, catching his breath.

Nicholas peered at the dead thing at his feet. “What in God’s name is that?”

Danny looked up at him, amazement in his eyes. “It’s a dragon.”

“Surely not!”

“’Tis! Look at his scales! And-and wings! It’s got wings, sir! It’s a dragon before my very eyes!”

Nicholas studied the, well, dragon, he had to admit. From nose to tail, it was possibly one man and a half. But it had easy to see fangs, wings, and seemed altogether dragon-like, if Danny’s stories were to be believed. “It’s not very big.”

“Well, maybe it’s a baby dragon.”

“A baby dragon.”

“A baby dragon.”

“So there may be a mother dragon somewhere nearby?”

As if on cue, the ground started rumbling as if an entire order of knights were galloping toward them on horseback. Nicholas looked at the man still on his knees by the dead…baby dragon.

“Danny.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Run!”

Nicholas ran so hard his feet felt jarred lose of their bones, and still he managed to keep sight of Danny out of the corner of his eye. He gripped his sword tight and prayed Danny had thought to keep hold of his own. If a baby dragon was almost the length of two men, he feared what and angry mother (or, God forbid, father) dragon would weigh. They burst out of the forest, mounted their waiting horses, and rode toward the village in tandem, almost as if they had synchronized their movements beforehand. They did not stop until the tallest spires of the cathedral were in sight, and only then to fall to the ground. Nicholas fought to catch his breath.

Danny was laughing. His face held no fear, only joy. Nicholas felt a swelling of the purest affection he had ever experienced for this man who could feel such in the face of what had happened.

“Danny, the next time I tell you something does not exist, you may feel free to remind me of this day.”

Danny turned shining eyes upon him. “That I will do, sir.”

Nicholas once again felt a tugging somewhere inside, a nameless place. He placed his hand on Danny’s arm. “Come now, we are friends, are we not?”

“Sir?”

“I fear I don’t have the remaining ride in me now. Let’s rest a bit before we return.” Nicholas started fussing with his chainmail, suddenly needing to be free of it for the moment. “And you may call me Nicholas, if it pleases you.”

“All right then,” Danny said quietly. And then, “Nicholas.”

Nicholas flashed a smile. “A fire then. And some mead, please.”

After a long draught from Danny’s flagon, Nicholas felt his nerves settle some. Danny was staring into the fire, something mysterious and determined on his usually open features. But Nicholas did not wish to talk of dragons just yet. He wasn’t quite ready to allow his world to turn so completely upside-down.

“Tell me, Danny. When you said before you wanted to be a proper knight, of what were you speaking?”

Danny looked at him, all mystery gone. “I want to do what you do.”

“But you do do what I do.”

“Not the battles, or even the tournaments.”

Nicholas sighed and leaned back against his pack. “Danny—“

“I want to fight for something good and right.”

“The other day when we stood guard at the castle gates in the heat of the day?”

Danny furrowed his brows. “Yes?”

“That was what being a knight is. Following the orders of your liege. Even if it’s standing guard in the sun.  The pageantry, the tournaments--that’s to keep everyone entertained.”

“But what about the battles? You cannot deny there is honor in going to war for what is right?”

Nicholas let the question settle before he answered. When he did, he kept his voice low, lost in thought. “There is nothing romantic about killing people. Even if you are doing it for the right reasons. War is messy, and sometimes…one wonders if the blood will ever wash off.” He shook his head. “Either way. Knighthood is more duty than excitement most days. It’s about upholding a code, protecting the honor of your King, and defending the oppressed.”

“Not much excitement, eh?”

“That is what I’m saying.”

“You do remember we just now killed us a dragon, don’t you?”

Nicholas laughed. “And who will believe us? I can’t even get your father to understand there’s something very wrong happening right under his nose. And no,” he said to Danny’s sudden expression, “I do not think a dragon is stealing children to eat them.”

“It does make a little sense, though, don’t it?”

“Nothing about this day has made a bit of sense.” He smiled at Danny to soften his rebuke. “So, as you are the expert on the fantastic, what more?”

“Eh?”

Nicholas thought for a moment. The fire popped and the horses pawed at the ground, snorting at bugs or phantoms, Nicholas couldn’t be certain anymore. An indefinable thing was tumbling around inside of him and he didn’t know how to set it to rights. This moment he simply needed to figure out a way to allow himself to relax, and he didn’t know how.

“I suppose,” he started, then faltered again. “I suppose I’m asking for a story, Danny. Can you tell me one of your stories?”

He must have chosen wisely, given Danny’ incandescence at the request, and the smile given to him caused a tight knot inside to loosen a bit.

The Story Danny Told:

**_Sir Gawain and the White Hart_**

_This adventure begins during a high feast, the wedding of Arthur to Guinevere. Merlin asks that all the knights remain at their seats to see a strange adventure. A white hart comes running into the hall chased by a white hound. The hound manages to catch and bite the hart, which in its frenzy to escape leaps the table overthrowing a knight and escapes. The knight rises and takes the hound and departs. A lady comes riding in on a white horse and requests the return of her hound, crying aloud and making great dole. As she cries, a knight appears and takes her by force and departs. Arthur is relieved for she made a great noise but Merlin will not let him put aside the adventure lightly. Merlin requests that Arthur send Gawain to bring back the hart._

[“A woman was taken by force right in front of them and Arthur is only concerned with the hart?”

“Arthur sent King Pellinor to rescue the lady.”

“Oh good, because this great King of yours was sounding a bit of a prat.”

“You shouldn’t say such things, Nicholas.”

“If you say so. Why aren’t we hearing this Pellinor’s story, then?”

“I like Gawain’s better. Pellinor’s is a little sad. May I go on?”]

  _Gawain sets out with Gaheris, his brother, as squire, and as they ride they find two knights battling. Gawain rides between them and asks why they fight. The knights were two brothers that each thought himself the better. Having seen the hart, they each wished to pursue it and fought to determine which would have the right._

_At this Sir Gawain was greatly astonished, and he said, “Messires, I cannot understand how so great a quarrel should have arisen from so small a dispute.”_

_“Messires,” said one of the brothers, “I think thou art right, and I now find myself to be very much ashamed of that quarrel. Sir Knight, I would deem it a very great courtesy if thou wouldst-“_

[“Wait, is that how you imagined us speaking to each other?”

“Praythee, messire, if you please to ride to yonder glen a ways in search of great adventure-oh!”

“What?”

“I had no idea you could laugh so much.”

“Continue, please.”]

_The brothers, Sorlouse and Brian of the Forest after hearing the name of Sir Gawain, decide to yield and leave for Camelot. Gawain continues his quest following the cry of his hounds until they come to a river that the hart swam. On the distant shore, a knight in full armor with a spear in one hand and a shield hanging to his saddle-bow, proclaims that Gawain can not cross after the hart unless he fight with him, for the quest of the white hart is his to pursue. Gawain accepts the challenge and fords the river. In the joust, Gawain smites him off his horse but the knight will not yield, requesting instead that Gawain alight and fight on foot. The knight gives his name as Allardin of the Isles and Gawain takes the challenge, killing the knight in the struggle._

_Gawain and Gaheris continue the chase. Gawain's greyhounds chase the hart into a castle, bringing the hart down in the main hall with Gawain quick on their heels. A knight, Ablamar of the Marsh, comes out of one of the chambers and attacks the dogs, killing two of them and chasing away the others, even as Gawain watched. The knight mourns the death of the hart for his lady had gifted it to him and he had not protected it. He arms himself and challenges Gawain. Gawain complains of the death of his hounds for they did only what they were trained to do, and the knight should have taken his anger out on the owner. The knight agrees and they fight fiercely, giving blow for blow, until Gawain strikes him hard and he fell to the earth, crying mercy._

_But Gawain does not wish to give mercy and prepares to kill the knight. Even as the knight cries for mercy, Gawain will not change his mind. The knight's lady runs from the chamber and throws herself over her lord even as Gawain strikes, killing her rather than the knight. Gawain is ashamed and pardons the distraught knight and forces him to go to Arthur to relay the adventure, taking one greyhound before him and one behind._

  


_  
__Gawain decides to stay the night in the castle but before he can rest, four knights come and attack them because of his dishonor. Gawain and Gaheris are hard pressed even to the point of death when Gawain takes an arrow in the arm. They would have died if four fair ladies had not cried for mercy. They are taken prisoner and locked up with Gawain afraid that he will end up maimed. In the morn, one of the ladies questions Gawain and upon learning who he is, gets the knights to release him because of love of Arthur._

[“You realize any knight who wantonly kills another knight’s lady would have a much steeper price to pay.”

“But it’s Sir Gawain. One of King Arthur’s knights of the round table.”

“So he is immune to honor?”

“Well, he did almost die as a result.”

“Yes, there is that, I suppose.”]

_They give Gawain the head of the hart but also force him to convey the murdered lady, her body draped across his horse and her head hung from his neck. When he arrives at Camelot, Arthur is displeased and Guinevere makes him promise that he would never refuse mercy and must always show honor and courtesy to all ladies._

**_The End_**

“I don’t understand.”

“What?”

“But what is the story about? There’s too much that happens; I cannot make sense of it. Is it about the white hart and the hound? The knight at the river? The fighting brothers?”

“It’s about choices, I suppose.”

Nicholas reached for the flagon as he thought upon the story. “But Gawain chose wrongly. And others were hurt by his choices.”

Danny settled against his pack, looking for all the world as if he would never move. “He learned from choosing wrongly. I guess that’s what the story is about. Learned about showing mercy and such. I once heard another version where the hart and hound were gifts of the sorceress Morgan le Fay, used to trick others into killing each other.”

Nicholas considered that. “That sounds interesting.”

“Oh! Maybe an evil sorceress-“

“There are no-“

“Dragon!”

Nicholas turned to his side and faced Danny, smiling. The fire was dying and really they should head back to the village, but he felt no desire to move, except to scoot a little closer to Danny’s warmth.

“So,” he ventured, “by avenging his hounds and killing the hart he learns what?”

The other man’s eyes were heavy-lidded and his answer slow in coming. “That even if you chose the wrong side, you can still learn to do the right thing.”

“Truly?”

But Danny was asleep and leaning toward Nicholas as if reaching for him. “Happy Birthday, Danny,” he said softly. Nicholas allowed himself to move a little closer and let his own eyes close.

**

“What a load of horse dung,” Sir Andrew said, narrowing his eyes.

Nicholas sighed. “I’m telling you, there is someone up to no good in those woods.”

“Because you saw a black-hooded figure?” asked Sir Anthony.

“Because the figure in question ran when it saw us! People with nothing to hide do not run!”

“All right, Nicholas,” the Sheriff said. “Danny? Did you see the figure?”

Danny looked down. He wished, really and truly wished, as if wishing would be enough, that he could say yes, but, “No, Dad. Was behind him.” He pointed at Nicholas.

Nicholas threw his hands in the air. “Why is it not enough that I saw him?”

“Nicholas, Nicholas.” His father had put on his friendliest tone. “Nobody’s saying they don’t believe you saw something in the woods. Come to my rooms and let’s talk.” His father placed a guiding hand on Nicholas’s shoulder and led him away. Danny made to follow, but a shake of his father’s head and he sat back at the table.

Andrew leaned in. “I don’t believe him.”

“Leave off it, Andy.” Danny pushed him away, trying to see what was happening in the other room. He could hear nothing, but could see Nicholas’s shoulders relaxing. His dad was good at that, getting everyone around him to stop nipping at each other’s hides. Danny wished he could hear what was being said. Wondered if Nicholas was telling him about the dragon.

He’d been bursting with the news when he woke, his forehead against the other man’s, wrapped in the cozy warmth of sleeping near another person. In fact, he quite hadn’t wanted to move, but Nicholas heard the morning tolls and was instantly alert. Danny had thought they were going to tell everyone at the castle about the dragon, but Nicholas’s thoughts were occupied with the black-clad figure he’d chased. 

Nicholas walked out of his Dad’s rooms, but Danny could tell all was not well. He stood to block the other man from walking out without him.

“Danny,” his father called, “you’re expected at the pub later so we can celebrate your birthday.”

Danny’s cheered at that and he looked at Nicholas. “Yea?”

Nicholas nodded and gave him a small smile. As he walked out of the castle, Danny followed with no idea where they were going. It was then the clear thought went through his mind he would follow Nicholas anywhere.

They ended up at the duck pond, sitting at the edge of the water.

“He doesn’t believe me,” Nicholas said softly. “Your father.”

Danny looked down at his scuffed boots and picked at the leaf bits stuck on the heel. “I believe you.”

A sharp look sideways. “Thank you, Danny.”

Danny busied himself with his shoes. “Didn’t tell him about the dragon, then?”

He heard Nicholas sigh.

“You do remember the dragon? Scales, wings, almost killed us?”

“The thing is…the thing is…I’m not so certain that was a dragon.” And he sounded real apologetic, he did, but it still angered Danny to hear it.

“How could you not think…how…?” He forgot his shoe, forgot the duck pond, forgot even that moment waking up and almost, almost, touching Nicholas’s face because it looked so peaceful and sleepy, happy, even. Now he looked tense and tired, as if the night’s sleep had never happened.

“Does it have to be a dragon? Why can’t it be a…a lizard or salamander of some sort we hadn’t seen before? Dragons are…dragons are…” At this he seemed to run out of words and stared miserably at the pond.

“Impossible?”

“Yes!”

“No. Quite unimpossible, if I remember correctly.” Danny thought for a moment. “And if that wasn’t a dragon, then what chased us out of the forest? A really, really big lizard or salamander?”

Nicholas shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Nicholas.” Danny swallowed heavily. “I believe you about the figure in black and I didn’t even see it. You were with me. Why can you not just accept the truth of what you saw?”

Nicholas turned his head away. “I don’t know how.”

“Would it help if I told you another story?”

Nicholas half-smiled, then stood. “No. I think I’ll just take a walk instead.”

“Coming to the pub later?”

“I-yes, of course, Danny. I’ll see you there.”

Danny watched Nicholas walk away and resisted the urge to follow him. To grab his shoulder and shake it and demand Nicholas admit what they killed was a dragon. Perhaps he was someone who would need more time, sort things out, like Danny needed more time to memorize the code and rules and stuff, but eventually he got them. Eventually. Danny turned toward the pub.


	5. The Good Knight-Errant (5/10)

**

 

Nicholas knew he was being an ass. He had seen the anger in Danny’s eyes, the disbelief, and he had to walk away. He would make it up to him later, and Danny would forgive him, and Nicholas hoped one day to be the kind of partner to Danny who didn’t always need forgiving. But he could not see what business a dragon had in the middle of this mess. Missing jewelry, missing boys, a skulking figure in a black cloak, dragon.

Yesterday, he had told the Sheriff he believed the boys were stealing the items and living in the woods, and the Sheriff had thought he should go investigate.  _You do what you do best_ , _Sir Nicholas_ , he’d said. But today, mention the strange person he’d chased, and nothing. Talk of how different Sandford is from other villages. How Sir Popwell had had the same problem and had been driven mad with it.

Only Nicholas didn’t feel mad. Just like something was sitting just out of his range, waiting for him to notice it. He allowed his mind to turn and turn it again but still ended up with: missing trinkets, missing boys, a skulking figure in a black cloak, dragon. Now he wished he had not walked away from Danny, just for the chance to talk it out with someone who wouldn’t scorn him. Someone whose presence had a more calming influence than Nicholas could have imagined. Even when he was frustrated with Danny, he knew someone was listening, was giving credence to his thoughts. Danny believed him.

**

Nicholas ignored the jeers from the Andrews and slid onto a bench across from Danny at the pub. Danny, who looked cautiously happy to see him.

“All right,” he said, keeping his voice low. “All right. Say the dragon is stealing the children.”

Danny immediately looked thoughtful. “Hard not to notice a dragon coming round the village, eh?”

“That’s what keeps stopping me.”

Danny looked straight into his eyes and he could do nothing but stare back. “Someone’s helping it,” he whispered.

“But who?”

Both men took turns surreptitiously glancing around the pub. As with the other night, most of the knights and town elders were there, including Simon the Skinner, grinning straight at him. Nicholas gave him a polite nod and turned his attention back to Danny. “Is there any way we can gain the whereabouts of everyone the night the Marsten boy disappeared?”

“Well, all the village elders keep a record on the village. We could ask one of them.”

Nicholas sighed. “What if it is one of them?”

“Who?” Danny asked, eyes widened.

“I don’t know.” He resisted the urge to bang his head on the table. “I just wish there were someone we could talk to about the children.”

“I know someone.” Danny brightened and turned as if to leave. Nicholas grabbed his arm. “Later, Danny. It’s your birthday celebration.”

“I like when we work together,” Danny said.

Again, that honesty directed solely at him, it warmed him. He waved Mary over for drinks. Perhaps he would rather keep working. And perhaps he would not be able to keep his thoughts completely off the mystery before him. But he was willing to try for a little while.

Three hours later and Nicholas’s bed didn’t fit right. He was certain it had been fine the last time he’d lain in it, but now, with his mind throwing itself in many directions, he was unable to settle.

Easier to blame the bed than the idea a dragon, which Danny dolefully stated must be eating the children, existed in their midst.

Easier to blame the rough itchy cover than focus on thoughts of evil men lurking in the shadows of this peaceful village.

Much easier to find blame in the lumpy ticking than think about Danny’s hand resting comfortably at the nape of his neck until they’d parted ways at their respective quarters. 

Much, much easier than thinking about the way it felt it belonged there.

**

Danny skipped his morning session in the stables to walk about the village. The air was sleepy, heavy with moisture. Rain today, perhaps. 

Missus Tiller was tending her garden as she did every morning. She was currently kneeling over a bush of smallish yellow roses that just caught the morning sun, turning the petals translucent.

“Morning, Missus. Your garden is looking lovely,” he called.

“Ah, fine morning to you, Danny! Yes. We are very lucky in this village to always have the perfect weather for my flowers.”

Danny gently touched the petals of a yellow rose. “They are beautiful.”

“Here.” She plucked a flower off the bush and handed it to him. “You must have a sweetheart you’re courting. Give this to her.”

Danny looked at the flower and blushed at the thought of who he would give it to, but said nothing.

Missus Tiller sat back on her heels, brushing dirt off her hands. “Now what truly brings you by? I’m afraid I have no cakes made yet.”

“Missus Tiller.” Fortune favors the brave. “Have you heard anything from your boy, Paul?”

The lady looked down in sadness. “No. Not one.”

“I’m sorry.” At her curious look, he continued, “It’s just he always appeared happy here, not like someone who would want to leave.”

“That’s what I always thought. He was happy, that is, until…” She huffed out a breath, her brow wrinkled in thought.

Danny leaned forward. “Until?”

“I sent him to apprentice with my cousin. I don’t think he liked it overmuch, but he tried so hard.”

“You mean Simon?”

She nodded. “I should have known better, but I had no other way to support him. And he was growing so. I thought it would, well, it was Simon’s idea and I did not see any harm in it.”

“He did not like it?”

“Oh, he made mistakes. Simon would grow quite cross with him, you know. Between you and me, Simon was always a bit on the short-tempered side. Funny, to think of it.”

“Think of what?”

“Well, it was not too long before that Simon was unhappy as well.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “He wanted to be a troubadour, you know. But his father would hear nothing of it.”

**

At the stables, Danny saw Lily was gone.

“Dorin, where has Sir Nicholas gone off to?”

His page shrugged, “Wouldn’t know.”

Danny sighed and leaned against the wall. He realized he was idly plucking at the rose still in his hands and placed it on the edge of Lily’s stall.

“Missed your lesson this morning,” Dorin whispered.

“I’ve been busy, yea? Squire things.” He felt guilty for his tone, for Dorin was a good page and helpful friend. “What number were we up to anyway?”

Dorin pulled the parchment out of his belt and read from it. “ _A man in love is always apprehensive_ ,” he read. Danny repeated the phrase over to himself silently. “I don’t know why you want to learn this stuff,” he heard Dorin say.

“It’s all important. You need to remember that if you’re going to make squire one day and be paired with a real knight.” He scowled. “Read me another.”

Dorin dutifully read the words in front of him, “ _Every act of a lover ends in the thought of his beloved_.” He wrinkled his nose. “Is this something you have to recite, or something, before they make you a knight?”

Danny, busy repeating the line to himself, didn’t hear at first. “What? Oh, I don’t know. It’s just…things…good to know.” He carefully secured the two new lines away. “All right. No time for more.” He watched the boy put away his secret. “Nicholas didn’t say anything about where he was off to?”

Dorin shrugged. “Knights never tell me nothing.”

**

Nicholas rode Lily hard through the woods. He didn’t know what he was looking for, or if he was running from something. Only this need to feel wind and power. It was reckless of him, he knew, there was a danger here. But he had made it a point to enter the woods far south of where they had had their encounter. It was all he could do at the moment not to get lost, though a part of him wished to.

Not too long ago, his only thought had been to do his penance and return to London. Though it had occurred to him his Lord may never require his return, may not wish it, after the words spoken those weeks ago. Nicholas had never set out to make others look bad. His only desire had ever been to be the best knight he could. Not to better others, only himself. But Sandford…Sandford was possibly slowly driving him mad with its seeming peacefulness, rowdy happy gatherings, stolen children, a neighboring dragon, perfect weather, and Danny.

If this mystery could not be solved, he may have to go Errant. The thought chilled him. Errant knights, with their freedom and lack of alliance were little trusted, worked for coin, not honor. Only in Danny’s endless tales were Errant knights the picture of heroism, seeking out damsels in distress. His thoughts swirled, lost in mire. The sun was slanting so he knew too much time had passed. It was time to return. Danny would be worried at his absence. He stopped, allowing Lily the chance to cool, and looked around. He was about to turn when through the trees to his right, a glint of something caught his eye. 

He drew his sword and willed his breathing to slow as he slid off Lily’s back. Though his heart was pounding, he stepped carefully through the brush, desperately hoping it was no dragon this time. The glinting object soon came into clearer view as a piece of looking glass, broken and jagged, hanging off a tree branch by a piece of jute. It was surrounded by many others of different sizes and shapes, as well as pieces of colored glass that tinkled when the wind pushed them together. It was, he had to admit, beautiful.

“Keeps the dragons away, it does.”

Nicholas whirled around, sword ready, to face a tiny wizened woman holding plants in her apron. She smiled a gap-toothed smile. Nicholas lowered his sword. “Dragons?”

“Sir Knight is not as surprised as he should be, but then he wouldn’t be, would he, being that this is now his quest.”

Quest? “Who might you be, lady?”

“No one important, or perhaps very important, that tale is yet to be told. Important to know, though,” at this she leaned in so Nicholas could see every wrinkle in her face and the kind gleam in her eye, “always look for the juvening tree when you are lost in the woods. Always safe here.”

The wind picked up, causing the glass to tinkle and shards of sunlight blinded Nicholas. He turned his head to the sudden noise, noticing as he did, the unmistakable shape of a gold signet ring suspended with the glass. “You’re going to return that to its rightful owner, I hope,” he said. But when he turned back, the old lady was gone. He stalked around the tree, seeing nothing that would give him a clue. Lily started pawing the ground and backing away. Nicholas took one last look around before mounting her and heading back. He couldn’t wait to tell Danny he’d met his witch.

**

Danny was pacing Lily’s stall when he returned. “Where’ve you been!”

Nicholas stopped and stared at him. His color was high and he seemed agitated. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. Nothing, I just.” Danny visibly took a deep breath.

He noticed a perfect yellow rose laying on the wall and picked it up to sniff it. “This is lovely, where is it from?”

“Missus Tiller,” Danny said.

“Missus Tiller gave me a flower?”

“No, she gave me a flower to gi--I meant Missus Tiller had a boy who went missing, he was a good boy, kind, and, and he just disappeared one night about ten years ago.”

“Not a boy who would run away, then?” He sniffed at the rose again, thoughtfully.

“No. There’s more. Paul was apprenticed to Simon the Skinner at the time, but wasn’t doing a very good job.”

Nicholas put the rose down and methodically started removing Lily’s saddle while thinking. Danny automatically took items from his hands as he no longer needed them and started brushing her tail. “I had long suspected Simon of something, but I felt uncertain basing my suspicions on him because…”

“He’s a bit of assbollock?”

He smiled at Danny’s ability to state things just as they were. “Well, yes.” He thought some more. “Where’s Dorin? I need him to finish here. I think it’s time we talked to your father about everything.”

“Dragon?”

“We are coming clean.”

Danny giggled and clapped his hands.

**

 


	6. The Good Knight-Errant (6/10)

**

“Nicholas. Nicholas. What am I going to do with you?”  
   


“Sir, you have to understand-“ Nicholas willed himself to remain calm, but his heart was beating rather fast, and he knew his voice sounded agitated.  
 

“No, Nicholas, you have to understand. Sandford is not like other villages.”

“Well, obviously, sir. You do have a dragon living near.”

The Sheriff chuckled and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “Dragon; Nicholas, really. I would have thought a man of your sophistication would not believe such nonsense.”

“I…normally would not, sir.  But recent events have…and your own son saw it as well.”

“My boy is a fine young man who has yet to find his way. He saw a dragon because he wants to so badly. Perhaps you think I should have had him properly educated, as you no doubt were.”

Nicholas shook his head, confused. “I think Danny is just as he should be.”

“A very honorable sentiment to have.” Sheriff Butterman regarded him. “Have you returned to the place where you say you killed this poor creature?”

“Well no, we’ve been…” Nicholas looked down at his feet, realizing at once what they should have done. Of course, they should have returned and attempted to bring the dragon back to the village with them. But in their haste to leave, and his own confusion over many things, he had not thought clearly at all as to the proper course of action. He sighed. “I suppose then you do not believe there is any further question regarding the missing boys?”

The Sheriff stood and walked over to his side. His expression was gentle and kind as he reached over to squeeze Nicholas’s shoulder. “You, my good knight, need rest. Have you been sleeping?”

“There’s been a lot going on, sir.”

“Boys run off, Nicholas. It happens all the time, much as we wish it wouldn’t.”

“But Paul Tiller was happy here, he did not-“

“Paul Tiller was happy when he could remain a boy and play in the garden by his mother’s side, as soon as the responsibilities of manhood were thrust upon him, he ran.”

It was such a reasonable explanation. He wished he could believe it. Everything would be so simple then. The Sheriff squeezed his shoulder and nudged him toward the door.

“Do me and yourself a favor, Nicholas. Go back to your quarters. Rest. If, in the morning, you wish to pursue this further, I’ll go with you myself to talk to Simon.”

“Yes, sir.” Nicholas walked out where Danny was waiting for him.

“What did he say?”

“He said…nothing.”

“But?”

“But nothing. I’ll…I’ll talk to you later.” He walked away from Danny, out the gates and into the village.  The good people of Sandford were heading to their homes in the setting sun, but Nicholas kept his gaze downward, greeting no one. He made a slovenly appearance, having left his belt and sword in the stables in his haste to tell the Sheriff…tell the Sheriff what? That one of his trusted elders was in cahoots with a dragon? That he was making off with children from the village? And to what end? He still couldn’t put heads or tails on why Simon would do such a thing. Far from the heat of the moment, Nicholas knew how ridiculous it all sounded. And yet, when he and Danny had talked just earlier, it had made perfect sense.

Danny. He still hadn’t told him about the witch. Nicholas looked around him and noticed he had wandered to the north side of the village. He turned with the idea to seek out his friend, and froze in his tracks when he saw a tall black-cloaked figure leaving a ramshackle cottage, carrying a large brown sack. A squirming brown sack.

“You! Stop!”

The figure turned slightly toward him before running toward the woods. Nicholas took off at his top speed, tackling the figure just as it reached the darkest edges of the village. The sack dropped to the ground and made a moaning sound. Nicholas looked down at it and didn’t notice the fist that came out of nowhere, connecting squarely with his jaw. He reeled back and threw himself forward and upward, pulling off the hood to reveal.

“Who are you?” he asked, confused.

“Yarp,” the giant answered before bringing his head down to connect with Nicholas’s. 

Pain burst through his head, staggering him to his knees. Another fist slammed into his cheek, sending him down next to the wriggling sack. He opened his eyes in time to see the feet of the giant running off into the woods.

He pulled himself up, breathing heavily, ignoring the pounding in his head. The sack was in danger of rolling away now and he caught it and tried to settle its contents. “Easy. It’s all right. You’re safe now. Easy.” When he felt certain the boy inside would not try to thrash him, he untied the knot at the top. The sack fell away to reveal a terrified looking boy of about thirteen years with golden hair and large eyes. Nicholas remembered his name was Gabriel.

“Are you hurt, Gabriel?”

The boy shook his head.

“I need you to go home and stay inside. Do not leave again until I come to you. Do you understand?” He waited for Gabriel to nod. “Stay inside and wait for me. We’ll go to the Sheriff together. All right?” Another nod. “Go now. Run!” He watched the boy run back toward his cottage and then looked in the direction in which he’d seen the giant exit. He took a deep breath and took off in pursuit.

It wasn’t long before Nicholas recalled the direction in which he was running. It was the same path he and Danny had taken just two days before. I am running toward a dragon, he thought. He dodged branches almost on instinct, following where he saw the other man had disturbed the foliage, grateful for the full moon and the light up ahead…

Nicholas skidded to a stop. The light, he could now see, was a fire. He dropped to a crouch, on the lookout for his attacker, and moved closer. The fire was surrounded by fourteen figures in black robes. Nicholas sat back on his heels and considered the possibilities. They were chanting with some reverence. When Nicholas moved closer he was able to identify several village elders. Simon the Skinner, the town surgeon, innkeepers, barkeep, priest! Nicholas’s head was pounding and his thoughts swirled. Beyond the group, he could see the entrance to a cave he hadn’t known existed.

“What of our local problem,” Tom the Weaver was asking.

“As soon as Larch delivers the gift, he will attend to Sir Nicholas,” Simon answered.

“I had cook put a sleeping draught in his nightly libation, so he’ll present no problem,” Hatcher said.

“Well then. After the gift is made and our intrepid knight is gotten rid of, we can return to normal,” Simon replied.

Nicholas stepped out of shadow. “I see nothing normal here,” he said.

“Well, well, well. He is tenacious.”

“And if your gift is young Gabriel, I’m afraid your recipient will be sadly disappointed.” Nicholas felt he should be more afraid. They were fourteen to his one, and he was unarmed at that. Granted many of the fourteen were elder in every sense of the word, but still could present a threat in numbers. But he also felt such a sense of righteousness in his place at that moment, the only thing he regretted was not having Danny with him.

Simon stood up. “That was a very stupid thing to do, Sir Knight.”

“I’d rather be stupid than evil, for that is the only word I can think of to describe kidnapping young boys from their homes, to what?”

“We have to make the gift. It is for the greater good.”

“The greater good,” said all in unison.

“Not good for those boys, or their families! Why Missus Tiller is one of your own, her son your family, Simon. You cannot tell me sending him to his death was for the greater good!”

“The greater good,” said all in unison.

“My nephew was a whiny, lazy brat who would rather tend his mother’s roses than become a man with an honest trade,” said Simon. “All the boys we’ve chosen were carefully picked, with regard to their character, heritage-“

“There is no excuse for killing innocents!”

“Oh, there was nothing innocent about them,” a familiar voice answered from the darkness.

Nicholas’s mind lurched with the impossibility of it. “Sir! No!”

“Yes, Nicholas,” said the Sheriff, stepping into the firelight. “It’s true. Those boys were a poison to our community, thieving, unruly, surely down a path of unrighteousness. And in their sacrifice, they were able to save Sandford.”

“Sir, this doesn’t make any sense.”

“It will, if you think about it. Many years ago, a woman visited our wonderful little village and informed us a dragon had taken up residence deep in the woods and had its baleful eye on us. She told us she could control it, protect us from it, if only we were willing to make a small sacrifice when required. Of course, we refused. You may not believe me now, but I was once like you, Nicholas, certain in what was right and wrong and the line in between.

“Then sheep started dying from illness, crops failed from drought, families were going hungry, and we had nowhere to turn and no idea of what to do, and my beloved wife…the mother of my boy…came into the woods alone one night and gave herself to save her village.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, but I cannot see—“

“Of course you cannot see! You, who have never truly loved anyone, will never understand. Sandford is the best village. And I would not allow my wife’s sacrifice to be in vain.”

“Why not just kill the dragon?” He asked desperately.

“Once we started making the gifts, Sandford not only improved, it prospered. No more sick sheep! No more failing crops. We are better than we ever were. I’m disappointed you cannot understand the importance of that.”

“Well I’m happy to disappoint you, sir, but this has to end now. You are all going to have to come with me! By the honor of the King and order of my station, I demand you—“

“No, Nicholas. I’m afraid it is you who is coming with us.”

Nicholas could curse himself for dropping his guard, because he should have noticed the giant approaching on his right before it grabbed his shoulder and held a knife to his side. But his true surprise came when he felt someone grab his left shoulder and he turned his head. “Danny! No!” Tears sprang to his eyes not just in betrayal, but at the flat stare he received in return.

He reacted on instinct, and it was such a blur that the running commentary in his head continued to surprise him.  _I did not just hear what I heard. I did not just put a knife to Danny’s throat._  After shoving Danny toward his father, Nicholas ran blindly into the woods. His mind whispered juvening tree…juvening tree, but he told his mind to shut it because the night was dark and heavy and there were footsteps throughout the brush. He darted toward a copse and tripped, falling onto his hands and knees and came face to face with a skull no bigger than a child’s. He scrambled backward, realizing with disgust he was crawling on the bones of children _two or so a half-year…for going on thirteen years_ and he scrambled back to his feet and ran in any direction to get away, but there was no away, they were right there, right there, and he turned and saw no exit and turned back to feel the thud of a dagger hitting his chest.

He stared wildly at Danny, whose flat empty expression scared Nicholas more than the knife, which…didn’t hurt at all, actually. He looked down in confusion. Yes, there was a hilt lodged against his vest, but there was no pain. He looked up to see Danny’s eyes were not expressionless at all. Danny’s eyes were trying to tell him something, and his mind clicked, not because he could suddenly read minds, but because it simply knew this was what he should do: fall to his knees, and over on his side, keep his face empty, eyes open, breathing as shallowly as possible. Now he had to trust Danny.

He could see feet running toward him, but Danny was already picking him up. Nicholas allowed himself to lay limp as Danny hoisted him over his shoulder (not too gently, he noticed). “I’ve got him, Dad,” he heard. “Now son-“ “No, Dad. He’s my…I’ll get rid of him.” “We can’t use him as the gift.” “No it wants living flesh.” “We have until midday tomorrow. Let’s all get some sleep and meet again in the morning.” “Good idea, Porter.” “Father, care to send us off with a prayer?”  The voices receded as Danny carried him away. He was uncertain they were not being followed, so he remained limp all through the forest, and the on horse ride which followed.

“You can get down now,” he heard, and he allowed himself his first full breath as he slid off Gawain’s back.

He looked down again at the dagger hilt attached to his vest and pointed to it while looking a question at Danny.

“Oh!” Danny reached forward and pushed a lever on the tip, releasing the catches that had dug into the fabric. Then he swung his hand and when he held it up, the blade glinted in the moonlight. He pushed another lever and the blade slid into the hilt and the two clasps poked out. “Ta-Da!”

“Wherever did you get that?”

“Found it. With Gawain’s tack.” His expression became sheepish. “Took me forever to figure it out. But I knew it would be lucky one day!”

Nicholas leaned against Gawain’s solid flank. “We have to go back.”

“No! You have to leave, Nicholas.”

He started pacing, his pounding head racing. “I cannot just leave! Your father and the village elders are sacrificing children to the dragon, Danny!”

“Not my dad!”

“What did you think was happening here?”

“Not this…”

“You go look at those skeletons in the forest and tell me then!”

“I don’t know nothing about no skellingtons.”

Nicholas hated the lost look on his friend’s face. “Danny-“

“You have to leave. They’ll kill you if you stay. And I couldn’t-” Danny’s voice was broken, thick. “I couldn’t stand it if that happened.”

“I’ll get help and come back, then. I’ll bring a whole order of knights with me, and together we’ll-“

But Danny was shaking his head. “No, Nicholas. No one will believe you. Just go.” He handed Gawain’s reins to Nicholas, who automatically grabbed them.

“Then come with me.” He didn’t care if his voice sounded desperate, but this was not the way this was supposed to happen, there had to still be a way to fix this. Danny had saved his life. But Danny was turning and walking away. Nicholas felt something inside his chest shatter.

He rode for untold time it seemed.  His head throbbed in time with the cuts on his cheek and lip; his eyes begged him to let them close. But still he rode until he heard the tinkling of glass.

**

 


	7. The Good Knight-Errant (7/10)

**

 

Danny walked until he could stand it no more. His father found him sometime later, sitting on a log by the path, staring at the dirt.

“I sent him off on Gawain,” he said, not caring how it came out, or if his father knew the truth and killed him. Would his own father kill him?

“That was a good idea, son. That way when someone finds him, they’ll assume he was robbed on the road.” He placed his arm around Danny and pulled him up. “Come along, then. Let’s get you some food and rest.”

Danny could only nod. He felt his father’s large hands on his shoulders. Hands that had always made him feel safe and loved. Even now he couldn’t help but believe a little that everything would be all right now because his dad was here. 

“I know he was your friend, but it’s for the best, Danny. You have to learn to think of the greater good. The good of Sandford.”

Danny nodded again and started walking. He didn’t know what the greater good meant. All he knew was Nicholas was alive and would stay that way. Even if that meant Danny never saw him again, it would be enough. It would have to be enough.

**

Nicholas woke with a start when his head hit the back of the chair. “What!” He readied to stand and fight, but instead of a dark forest surrounded by evil wearing friendly faces, he was in a cozy cottage staring down a wizened wrinkled face.

“So. Sir Knight awakens.”

“You.” He looked around, at the simple furnishings, and a familiar person at the stove. “Where? What?” He sat back down.

“You found your way back and I knew you would, did I not say, Doris? This knight would be the one, he would.” The old woman bent over a pot and pulled out a cloth with noxious-smelling paste clinging to it. “We just need to get you fixed now…”

Nicholas only half heard what she was saying as he stared at the girl at the stove. “Dorin?”

She turned and curtsied lightly. “Evening, Sir Nicholas.”

He pushed away the noxious-smelling rag and put his head in his hands. “This night did not at all go as I expected.”

“Not many of the best nights do,” said while a firm hand pulled his head up and goop was smeared on his face. “But they all seem to end where they should, when it counts.”

Nicholas allowed her to administer to his cuts, noting they almost immediately felt improved, though stinky. “Are you a witch? And…Dorin? Are you a girl?”

“Oh, I am but a woman who knows plants and such.” Nicholas could not help but catch the sly edge to her words.  “And Doris here is my sister’s daughter’s girl.” 

“My aunt did not wish me to live in isolation with her, and I always wanted to be a knight, sir,” Dorin-no, Doris said. She handed him a bowl of stew.

“I sent Doris to the stables when she was able to travel on her own, I did, but I always told her this world is no place for a girl who knows too much.” The old woman’s face crinkled kindly. “She is too clever.”

“Very clever indeed,” Nicholas acknowledged. He looked at the stew in his hands and put it aside. “What is the time?”

Doris answered. “Nearly dawn, sir. I am expected at the stable for my morning session with Danny.”

Danny! Nicholas suddenly felt a wild beast in his chest. He started pacing, his mind awhirl. “I need to go back to the village, Doris, but quietly, can you direct me the best way?”

“Of course.”

“And I’ll need you to do something for me—wait, what morning session?”

Doris avoided his eyes, but when her aunt cleared her throat (which may simply have needed clearing), she answered, “Reading the code to him and some other stuff. Silly love stuff. I read it to him and he memorizes it. My aunt taught me to read,” she finished proudly.

Oh, Danny. Nicholas sat down once more. “This has to remain between us, Doris, can you do that?” He awaited her nod, never disbelieving he would get it. “It is for Danny’s safety that he not know I’m coming.”

The old woman wiped his face and applied more of the goop while humming. She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. “Do not worry about your squire friend; he left the woods whole not too long ago. He grieves, but he is well.”

“He’s not well yet, but he will be.” Nicholas stood and grabbed the page by her shoulders. “I’ll be not too long behind you, but there are things I need you to do for me, and you’ll need to be very brave.”

Doris lifted her head and pulled back her shoulders. “I am ready, sir.”

He turned to Doris’s aunt, “And you will be returning those stolen items hanging from you tree to their proper owners by morning.”

She tilted her head and smiled. “Only trying to offer some protection to those in need, but if’n you say so, knight, it will be done.”

“Protection? I thought…you don’t by any chance have six toes on your left foot, do you?”

“Both of ‘em, actually,” she said, still smiling.

**

Danny did not sleep. Possibly he dozed or something like it, because he did open his eyes, time had passed, but there was no sense of having rested. His first thought was of Nicholas, where he was. London was days away by horseback and Nicholas had nothing with him but his wits, which were mighty, he had to admit.

He avoided the stables that morning, not wishing to spar with Dorin, though he would have to go eventually to make certain Lily was well cared for. Danny made himself a promise that he would care for Nicholas’s horse as his very own for the rest of his days.

The knight’s area was quiet. He could see his father in his rooms, but he had no desire to speak to anyone. He wandered into the village. His perfect village, where he had been raised to run the streets, and had been loved and coddled by all. He hated the sight of it at the moment. There was a curious air this morning, as if something were waiting to happen, but Danny couldn’t put his mind to it. He stopped outside Roper’s shop and looked around. Not many on the streets this early; most were still inside, and for that Danny was glad. The only sounds were the murmurs of the Porters as they swept the walk in front of the pub, and Father Philip as he spoke with the Prossers about some important business or other. Amanda Paver was heading towards the shop and waved a greeting to him that he all but ignored. Horse’s hooves clopped the street behind him and he turned. His heart stopped.

Nicholas rode into town center looking as if he owned it. He wore a gleaming coat of full battle armor without the helmet, broad sword and short sword crossed at his back. The sun rose at his back, turning his yellow hair shining, and Danny would swear for the remainder of his days that he looked like an angel descended upon them. His heart immediately started racing, in happiness to see him, in fear of what was to happen next, in pride that this was his brave friend. Danny glanced down the street and the entire town had gone still, all eyes were on the knight now dismounting his horse.

Nicholas ignored him, eyes only upon the town elders staring him down. “Morning,” he said, making it sound a threat.

It was a battle to end all battles, Danny would later think, with more weaponry than he knew the elders of his little village could possess. Though if he had to list his favorite moments, they would, in no particular order of preference, be:

  1. Tripping Amanda Paver just as she was about to attack Nicholas. Her dagger had already lodged in the shoulder joint of his armor and had thrown him off. This was the first time Danny had ever got to save anyone, though Nicholas would later remind him that wasn’t truly the case, as Danny had saved him the night before in the woods. Danny preferred not to think of the night before in the woods.
  2. Nicholas grabbing his shortsword off his back and throwing it to him.
  3. Catching Nicholas’s shortsword without a stumble, when thrown to him.
  4. Watching Nicholas, a sword in each hand, fight off the Coopers as they threw daggers from seemingly every direction.
  5. Standing up to his father. He would never admit to anyone this was the most difficult part of his day, even after everything, but Nicholas seemed to know this anyway.
  6. Running alongside Nicholas, catching a glimpse of the smile on his face, as they finished rounding up the village elders.
  7. Helping convince the other knights that Nicholas was right and yes, there truly was a dragon in the woods, no it wasn’t just one of his stories, and did people think he simply inserted fantasy into everyday life all the time?
  8. That moment in the lull, as he was grabbing Gawain’s reins and they were heading to the stables for armor when Nicholas looked at him with a glint in his eye, raised his eyebrow, and said, “Ready to slay a dragon, Danny?”



Yes, he had to admit, that last was the best moment of all.

**

Nicholas threw Gawain’s reins to Danny, who grabbed them first try. “Doris,” he called into the stable.

“Sir”

“Danny needs his armor. Is Lily ready to ride?” He dashed into the back, where Lily was indeed armored and battle-ready. He tugged on her reins and glanced into the tack room, where Danny was struggling into his armor.

He could hear the other knights gathering outside the stables, their charges tied behind them. He mounted Lily and rode out. He raised his voice to be heard over the grumbling of the prisoners. “Sir Robert, make certain the town elders and Sheriff are put in gaol.  And keep the rest of the townspeople inside until we give the all clear.”

“Aye.”

Nicholas looked at the Sirs Andrew and Sir Anthony. They were still regarding him a bit warily, and he could not blame them, but they were needed and he had to trust in their better instincts. Danny was now suited up and rode out astride Gawain.  He looked every bit the knight he should be.

He nodded at the lot of them. “We head into the woods at the north entrance.” He galloped off, hearing them follow suit without word.

They reached a clear spot just south of the cave. Nicholas looked to what he could see of the sky through the trees. Almost midday. Time to wake the dragon.

“Doris! Do you have what I need?”

Doris was running toward him, dragging the heaviest, longest lance she had found. “Here, sir!”

“Good. Hold Lily while I work on this.” He spared a moment to smile at the page, who was breathing heavily, but stood straight and held Lily still for him.

“Sir Andrew, your axe, please. And if, Sir Andrew, you could also help me.” Nicholas didn’t even await a response, but set the lance against a nearby boulder and started chopping at the narrow end.

“Nicholas,” he heard Danny say.

He turned to his disheveled friend, bruised and raring for more fight. A rumbling through the trees could be heard in the distance. The dragon was waking, looking for its gift. His heart twisted with what he was about to do, but he knew its rightness in his bones.

“Danny, I need you and Sir Anthony to go engage the dragon until I am ready.”

“Engage?” Sir Anthony said behind him.

“Yes,” he looked around. “We need to keep the dragon away from the village. It’s going to be angry, and possibly very large.” He focused his attention on Danny. “You can do this.”

 “I can,” Danny said, all confidence. He bent to gather his sword and shield, stood and nodded to Nicholas. Something was missing.

“Wait!” He grabbed Danny’s arm. “Daniel, kneel before me, please.”

Danny, confused, did as he was told. Nicholas smiled at him, and wished it were under different circumstances. He picked up his own sword and held it aloft.

“Do you promise to uphold the honor of your King and Country?”

All confusion fled from his face, and Danny’s smile rivaled the sun in brightness. “I do, sir.”

“Do you swear to follow the Code of Chivalry in all it entails: to protect the innocent, fight with honor, and exhibit courage in word and deed?”

“I do,” he answered.

“Do you offer your loyalty to King, Country, honor, freedom, code, and your friends who lay their trust in thee?”

Danny’s voice was soft, but his gaze direct and unflinching. “You know I do, Nicholas.”

Nicholas brought the flat of his sword against Danny’s neck. “I hereby dub thee Sir Daniel of the Order of…the order-“

“Of Saint Nicholarse,” interrupted Andrew the shorter. “Can we get on with this, please?”

Nicholas smiled. “Yes. Rise, Sir Daniel, and join your fellow knights in this mighty battle. I know you will fight bravely,” he finished softly.

Danny stood. He nodded to Nicholas and without word picked up his sword and shield, lifted his head and turned to face the dragon. Anthony joined him and they took off through the woods toward the rising racket.

“Godspeed, Danny,” Nicholas whispered. He picked up his axe and went back to work with Andrew the taller. He had a singular purpose, but his mind could not help wandering to Danny. He knew Danny would fight well, but a dragon is an unknown entity. And, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him of the woman who started this all, the sorceress who had struck the bargain with the town elders, who controlled weather and killed sheep and crops. He supposed killing the dragon would not be enough, then. After, he and Danny would search the woman out; find other villages she had exploited, perhaps. The thought of further adventures with Danny by his side caused him to work faster, chop with more force at the hard wood.

When the tip seemed sufficiently pointed, he handed the lance to Andrew the taller and grabbed Lily’s reins from Doris. To his appraising eye, her battle armor was expertly placed, tightly clasped, but with enough give to allow for a full gallop. “Well done, Doris,” he said quietly to the page by his side.

He took a deep breath and cleared his mind of all thoughts of the future but the ride ahead. Andrew the shorter gave him a boost to mount in his armor and handed him his helmet. He rested it on his lap and took the lance from Andrew the taller. He kept his eye on the middle distance, focused on the sounds of outraged dragon reaching their ears. “This falls to the two of you should we fail. Stand your ground here. And if something should happen to me, please give Lily to Dorin.”

“Dorin…the page, sir?” one of the Andrews (he couldn’t be bothered to check) asked.

“She will make a fine knight one day,” he said. He put on his helmet and pulled down the face guard just as he heard someone say, “She?!?”

Nicholas patted Lily’s neck. “All right, girl. All right.”   His voice echoed in his ears. He felt his heartbeat slow and his breathing level, then he kicked his heels into her flank and leaned forward into the gallop.

 


	8. The Good Knight-Errant (8/10)

The armor was heavy and hot and his vision was narrowed by the eyeslit. 

He could barely hear fighting ahead, but only caught glimpses of it when the branches allowed. Frustrated and fearing slamming into one of the knights, Nicholas reached up and pulled his helmet off, tossing it aside even as he kicked at Lily’s flanks again. He could see now that Andrew had injured his swordarm and was resorting to using his shield to block the dragon’s talons from raking across Danny’s body, as Danny, who had dropped his shield to wield his broadsword with both hands, hacked away at whatever part of the dragon he could reach. Branches whipped into Nicholas’s eyes and gouged his cheeks, but he was impervious to the sharp jabs of pain as he took in the enormity of what lay before him.

 

The dragon was indeed a monstrous, scaled beast, at least the size of a cottage. Its brown and green flecked chest was as broad across as two men; its talons as long as his arm. It ducked and weaved its pointed head, avoiding Danny’s blows, and furled out its wings as if to fly off, only to roar its frustration when Danny threw his shortsword to impact half-way into its side.

Nicholas straightened himself in his saddle and gripped the lance hard to his side. He urged Lily forward harder. Anthony dodged in front of Danny to block a particularly vicious swipe that still managed to knock both men sideways. Nicholas barely had time to register Danny’s head hitting the ground before he leaned into the charge, battle cry at his lips. Nicholas stood in his saddle just as the lance made contact with the beast’s throat. The dragon reared back with a roar, pulling Nicholas off Lily and sending him flailing upward. Nicholas let go of the lance and fell hard. His head was still ringing when soon after, a thudding impact to the ground jarred his body, causing his teeth to clack together. 

“Nicholas! Nicholas!” he heard Danny yelling. He waved weakly to the feet he could see running toward him. Danny stood over him, worried face peering down, his armor dented in several spots and with what looked to be blood leaking from joint at the knee.

“Did I kill it?”

Danny, still breathing heavy, nodded. “Oh, it’s very dead.”

Nicholas felt sheer joyous laughter bubbling out of him as he struggled to stand.

Danny grinned down at him in delight. “I thought you were a goner.”

“No, but can you help me up? This armor is bloody heavy.”

Danny grasped his hand and hauled him to his feet. Nicholas shook the ringing out of his head and walked over to… “Where is it?” he asked in a panic.

“It seems,” Sir Anthony said from where he stood a short distance away, “there was more to the dragon than meets the eye.” He pointed down.

If the lance had not still been lodged at the point of impact at the base of the neck, Nicholas would not have believed it. At their feet lay a dead woman with pale skin and long red hair. “The sorceress and the dragon were the same,” he said in wonder.

“Now, I’ve not heard that in any of my tales,” Danny said. “Maybe that’s why it didn’t breathe fire? I was expecting to get burnt.”

“We should consider ourselves lucky it didn’t, though this will make our report to London all the more interesting to write,” Nicholas said.

Anthony looked at him and raised a finger. “Speaking of London, sir, I received this for you yesterday.” He reached under his chest plate and pulled out a parchment.

Nicholas unrolled it, somehow knowing what it would be. Perhaps if he didn’t read the words…but of course they were right there.

“What’s it say?” Danny asked.

Nicholas held it over, then remembered his friend couldn’t read. That would soon be rectified, he decided. “It’s nothing important.” He smiled at Danny. “Seems my Lord has asked me to return.”

He saw Danny’s face fall and rolled the parchment up and put it away. “It is of little consequence now,” he said. “There is much to be done before I even write an answer.” He pointed at the dead woman in front of them. “That needs to be burned.”

“I’ll take care of that, sir,” Anthony said.

“No,” he considered. “Give her to the Andrews and tend to your wound. You have done plenty today, Sir Anthony.”

Danny was still looking down. That would never do. “Come, Danny. Let us return to the castle. I owe you a flagon of mead or three.” He grasped Danny’s arm and pulled him back toward the other knights. There was much to do indeed. And then…and then? Nicholas glanced back one more time at the dead sorceress who had caused so much pain and betrayal. For the first time since it had all began, Nicholas allowed the truth of sorceresses and dragons to settle into a permanent place in his mind. And then his mind, as it was wont to do, started turning.

**

“So the dragon turned into a lady?” Andrew asked.

“Was this before of after Dorin turned into a girl?” Andrew asked.

Danny held his cup of mead and turned it in his palms. Nicholas was smiling down at the parchment on which he was scratching out the events for the Lord of Sandford. Or was he accepting his new status as a returning knight? Danny’s mind didn’t want to think of such things, though he couldn’t blame Nicholas for wanting to return to his friends in London. But he had hoped…

“How long has Dorin been a girl then?”

“You know,” Nicholas spoke while still writing, “while I was in Brittany, I saw several female knights, who were just as capable in battle as any man.”

Andrew sat back in his chair and narrowed his eyes. He looked as if he were going to start a row, but said, “Got beat up by a girl-knight, did you?”

Nicholas raised his eyebrows. “Quite nearly. Once.”

And, oh, Danny wanted to hear that story. It occurred to him he could simply ask Nicholas and he would most likely be told the tale. Not like it was something to get all heroic about, but just as something that had happened.  _It was battle._  Or maybe now Nicholas would tell him the story of being stabbed. Or perhaps it was the lady-knight who had…he’d missed something because everyone was laughing, and Nicholas was smiling at him, but it didn’t matter because Tom the Weaver was standing there waiting patiently for their attention, a longbow in his grip.

Nicholas stood. Danny stood as well. The room was silent.

Danny looked back and forth between Nicholas and Tom, Tom and Nicholas, a whooshing sound in his head that was screaming something at him but he couldn’t listen because it was all happening so very fast and yet it was at the same time clear what he had to do and his eyes trained on Tom’s fingers where they gripped the bow and just as he saw them twitch, he jumped.

A world of pain exploded just below his chest, or possibly in his head and Nicholas was screaming _Nooooo!_ and he heard scuffling and shouting and there was this spot where, through the thatch, he could just see the sky and it was such a lovely shade today, he hadn’t noticed much of it and was glad of the chance to see it now, the prettiest blue, next to the nighttime blue of Nicholas’s eyes, and as if by thinking of them there they were not a handspan from his face and Nicholas was crying and saying something, but he shouldn’t cry, Nicholas was a hero a bona fide dragon slayer and he was going home and he wondered where his mum was. And there was silence…

**

 


	9. The Good Knight-Errant (9/10)

**

Soft sounds becoming gradually louder, but still Danny cannot make sense of them. There is some humming, murmurs, something muffled and broken-sounding that make him flail until a hand grasps his and pats it back to his side. There is pain like fire in his belly that spreads somehow to his head. There is silence, or possibly sleep.

 

He wakes fully to more humming and the feel of something cool soothing the fire in his belly, which feels swollen beyond its normal girth. Danny is leaden, the heaviest of weights lays upon his chest, but when he opens his eyes to the bleary dim room there is nothing there but his chest, naked, and a woman leaning over him.

He huffs out a breath, attempting sound, fails, and licks his lips, tries again. “Wha-?”

The cooling movement stills. “Well, Sir Knight. Decided to wake now, did you?”

A voice he doesn’t recognize. A woman’s voice, most likely belonging to the woman leaning over him and his eyes adjust to see crinkled eyes and a gap-toothed smile.

Where am I? What happened? What is this horrible pain? He wants to ask all these questions, but all that comes out is, “Nic’las?”

“Your friend is resting. Right over there.”

And he sees her hand point and tries to get his head to follow, but it is a weighted thing and he huffs out another breath, this time in frustration. “Nic’las?” A little louder.

“I’m right here, Danny.” Said softly, and there’s a warm pressure on his arm, travelling its length and Danny’s mind focuses on that, on that motion of what he believes to be Nicholas’s hand running up and down his arm. And there is silence, or possibly sleep.

Dragon! His body jerks and his head whips up. The room (his room, always has been his room, his mind supplies) is still dimly lit, but the fire in his belly is tamped so he finds he can move about more now. Danny tries to sit up, but finds something stopping him. He looks down to see Nicholas, curled up beside him, his hand clasped to Danny’s arm. For the first time in days (weeks? months?), there is no more leaden weight in his head and everything is as clear as water. Clearer, even.

Danny reaches over with the hand that is not attached to Nicholas’s cuddling arm and pats his yellow hair. It hurts a bit, this reaching, but Danny does not want to stop, wouldn’t stop if told to unless it were Nicholas doing the telling. He finds if he rolls just so, the fire barely sparks and he can properly look at the man next to him. 

He sleeps, his mind supplies. There are cuts on his face and on the hand grasping Danny’s forearm—his swordhand. He breathes, by the warmth puffing against him. Danny cannot help but feel gratified by this need for closeness, though if the tables were turned, he would probably do the same. But with snoring. He continues his soft pats and can’t help but allow his fingers to drag over Nicholas’s cheek. Nicholas’s beautiful, fine-boned cheek.

“Danny,” Nicholas murmurs before opening his eyes.

Danny smiles at him. He tries to say something smart, but all he can manage is, “’lo, Nicholas.”

Nicholas smiles at him, glances at the arm he is still holding, and at Danny’s hand, now resting on top of his. He swallows hard and Danny can hear him, or is it his senses are heightened such, or perhaps he just now has a special Nicholas-sense. It matters not because Nicholas is alive and warm and next to him where he belongs.  _Love can deny nothing to love_ , he thinks, a new favorite. And while he could do without the pain and the cuts and bruises and the absolute terror these thoughts bring, the thoughts still comfort Danny. There need be no more than this, he thinks. All I ask is this, he thinks. And there is silence…

**

Nicholas read whilst Danny slept, but as if he has developed a special Danny-sense, he felt the change in the room and looked up to smile when he woke. Danny smiled in return; half closed his eyes, opened them again.

“Hello, Nicholas.”

These were the only words he’s heard for days now, these different variations of greeting. Each time Danny awoke, whether it was for mere moments or slightly longer, his only words an acknowledgment to him. Nicholas’s chest tightened at the thought, and his head felt light. He looked down at the parchment in his hands: his summons back to London.  _Good character alone makes any man worthy of love_. Am I worthy, he wanted to ask. He shook the thought from his head. He needed to get Aunt Thatcher to check Danny’s wound. He stood.

“Wait,” Danny called, sounding lost.

Nicholas sat down, grasping Danny’s hand. “I’m returning, Danny. I’m only going to get the healer from the front room.” 

It was a short absence, but he felt Danny’s distress when he re-entered the room. He moved to the other side of the bed to let the healer do her work. Danny’s arm reached toward him and he grabbed his hand. “It’s all right, Danny. This is Doris’s Aunt Thatcher. She’s been helping me look after you.”

“Much help as you’ll let me get to, that’s true, but I believe in the mind-power of healing, I do and if this one here needed you by him to get better who’m I to separate you, I say?”

Danny’s eyes searched the ancient face hovering over his wound, and then the wound itself when she removed the dressing to apply more salve. He sucked in a breath at the sight and feel of her fingers rubbing the gash.

“It’s all right, Danny,” Nicholas murmured. “It’s much better than it was before, there’s less swelling and it,” and his voice broke, he can tell, but he continued, “it’s almost a normal color now.”

Danny searched his face and Nicholas looked back steadily. He smiled and sat on the edge of the bed, unable to let go of Danny’s hand. “You’re going to be just fine.”

“As you said.”

  


_Hold on, Danny! Everything is going to be fine! Please just hold on._  “Yes, as I said.”

“Don’t go,” Danny said, tightening his grip on Nicholas’s hand. 

Didn’t he already say…? But perhaps Danny doesn’t remember. He shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere, Danny.”

“I told you to, though, didn’t I?”

Nicholas’s heart twisted at the despair in Danny’s voice. “You didn’t mean that.”

Danny closed his eyes. The shadows surrounding them remind Nicholas painfully of one night by the fire, and talk of witches and the honor of battle.  _You can call me Danny if you like_. His scorn. 

“’m tired, Nicholas.”

“Rest then.” Nicholas resumed that movement which seemed to sooth Danny best by running the flat palm of his hand up and down Danny’s arm. “Rest. I’ll be here when you wake.”

Aunt Thatcher comes to stand by him. “The girl reports them other knights is wondering where you are? Told her to tell them you was injured too.” Nicholas turned his head to look at her but says nothing. “What I should say to her? You need rest, too, you do. By my stars I never seen two tireder knights in all my work.”

“Thank you, Aunt Thatcher,” he said, hoping it is enough. For at this moment, he was tired. 

After she left the room, Nicholas curled up on the bed beside Danny, but there were too many thoughts in his head for sleep. He watched his hand, which had taken on an almost hypnotic pace and thinks of honor, and duty, and an unanswered summons. Big decisions will wait until Danny is better, of course. He supposed until such time, he will have to go into the village to make certain the remaining knights were doing their part to keep the village calm until the Lord’s return. 

While his thoughts churned, Danny rolled over and placed his hand flat on Nicholas’s side, right at his waist, and murmured his name, before slipping back into sleep. Nicholas bowed his head until his forehead touched Danny’s. He could think some more later.

He woke to the heavy warmth beside him, and felt the closest to relaxed he’d experienced in ages. Danny was patting his head again, soft, lingering caresses, actually, and Nicholas allowed his sleepy state as an excuse to lean his head into the hand almost cradling it. Danny stilled at this movement, and Nicholas leaned into the hand again. As if encouraged by his action, fingers began gently stroking down his face, touching each place where a branch had whipped against him, soothing the stings. Nicholas knew if he opened his eyes Danny would be staring at him, could almost imagine the expression on his face. He fiercely wanted to see it.

Danny’s hand pulled back the moment his eyes opened, and Nicholas smiled at him. Danny’s return smile was tentative, his hand frozen in mid-air between their bodies. His heart was pounding, or was it Danny’s? They were so close on the bed it was difficult to determine. He realized Danny would remain unmoving until Nicholas did something, and his mind searched frantically for the thing to do, and lifted his own hand from where it rested on Danny’s arm and lightly touched a bruise on the other man’s cheekbone.

“How do you feel?” he asked, while his fingers moved into Danny’s hair. Danny’s hand unstuck itself and landed gently on Nicholas’s arm.

“Hurts, but not as bad as before. That sludgy tea your witch makes me drink makes me feel…dunno, heavy though. Don’t like it.” This was the longest sentence he’d uttered in five days and Nicholas wanted to dance with joy at the sound of it.

“It helps you sleep through the pain. You need your rest.”

Danny ducked his head, breaking eye contact, but his hand didn’t stop its smooth stroking on Nicholas’s arm, leaving it chilled and hot at the same time. Nicholas allowed himself a deep breath and moved his fingers down Danny’s temple to his chin. He brought his thumb across Danny’s bottom lip before resting his hand against the center of the other man’s chest. Danny’s whole body seemed to tremble at the touch, but Nicholas could also sense exhaustion.

“Are you comfortable in this position?” he asked.

Confused, Danny nodded.

“Good.” He turned so his back rested lightly against Danny’s front, mindful of the injury to his side, and brought Danny’s arm around his chest. “Though I should warn you, the knights are restless, so I’ll have to venture out in the morning and make certain they’re behaving.”

Danny’s arm tightened against him. “Can’t have a village of brigan’s, can we?”

“Oh, I’ll check them, do not worry yourself.” Nicholas placed his hand over Danny’s where it rested against his heart and fell into comfort and sleep.

**

Danny could not remember if he’d almost died. He remembered laughter, Nicholas looking at him in happiness, Tom the Weaver with a longbow, jumping before thought could form. He wondered if he would remember almost dying. Because it seemed the only explanation for what was now happening, curled up against Nicholas as if he belonged nowhere else. Nicholas unable to keep his touches from Danny’s skin.

Not that Danny was complaining. But strange, all the same.

There had been no sludgy tea recently, so Danny stayed watchful while Nicholas slept against him. He didn’t know how many days it had been since he’d maybe almost died, but it was now apparent Nicholas had not left his side that entire time. Had been sleeping curled up next to him, holding his hand, reading to him, he was now remembering. He wondered if Nicholas would teach him to read.

Nicholas said he wasn’t leaving. Nicholas maybe loved him, if the stories were correct. Danny searched his memory for the rule that would apply to him and Nicholas and found many that suited, but none that mentioned…this. Though _A man in love is always apprehensive_ seemed a good fit for now. He had not been Church-raised as many knights were, but he knew enough to figure this was something to keep in the secretest place in his heart. But if God could see them always, and may smite them down anyway…

Danny placed a careful kiss to the back of Nicholas’s neck, inhaling the warmth of the other man as he did so. He did it again. And then one more time, because perhaps God needed more to see before he-

“Go to sleep, Danny,” Nicholas said.

Unsmoted, Danny did so with a smile on his face.

**

Nicholas held true to his word. The next day, and for every one after, he left Danny’s chambers early morning to check on the village. Danny was soon able to get out of bed and wander around his small quarters before frustrating exhaustion forced him to lie down. At the end of each day, Nicholas would return, eat some of the food left behind by Doris, force nasty tea down Danny, and they would fall asleep curled together on the bed. Danny struggled against the effects of the tea and waited until Nicholas was asleep to press a careful kiss to his neck. With each contact, he could smell the outside world on the other man’s skin, horse sweat, hay, dirt, meatsmoke, iron. Danny breathed in Nicholas’s day and wondered when he would be allowed to join him.

“I’m tired of being inside,” he said one morning while watching Nicholas get ready.

“All right.”

“Yea?”

“I understand, Danny. I too have recovered from injury. Here. If you can get dressed, I would say you’re ready to go out.” At that, Nicholas laid out some clothes for Danny and left to get food.

Nicholas had chosen a soft shirt and trousers and simple vest. But the boots proved a struggle and when Nicholas returned, Danny was sitting on the edge of his bed, glaring at them as if they had bitten him.

“I suppose I’m not ready yet,” he said.

“Nonsense. No need to let two pieces of footwear stop us.” And Nicholas knelt at his feet and pulled his boots on for him. When he stood, he held his hand out to Danny. “Come on, then. Many are asking after you.”

Danny held Nicholas’s hand for a moment, but suddenly the thought of going outside and seeing all those people…

“Danny?”

Danny shook his head, but could not stop staring at his boots. Nicholas knelt again and touched Danny’s cheek. 

“What is it?”

“Where’s my dad?”

Nicholas kept his hand on Danny’s cheek and looked steadily at him. “He’s on his way to the Tower, with the elders.”

Danny let out the breath he’d been holding. His dad in the Tower of London! He had heard many stories of what went on there: torture, execution, even. A place for the worst of criminals. He couldn’t reconcile this to the father he’d known. He pulled his face away from Nicholas’s hand. “He was a good dad.”

“I know.”

He looked back at that steady gaze. “Do you?”

“He raised you, did he not?” Nicholas half-smiled. “And you’re a good man.”

Danny rested his now heavy head on Nicholas’s shoulder, grateful it was there, but unable to say so. When he heard the other man speak, it was quietly in his ear.

“No one blames you. They all just wish to see how you are doing. But if you cannot handle it yet, we will wait.”

“You’ll be with me?”

“I’ll not leave you.”

Danny nodded against Nicholas’s shoulder and took a deep breath.

It was later while they were at the pub and Nicholas had changed his order of mead for cider that Danny was finally glad he had come out. Everyone had been pleased to see him up and about, and there was much shoulder clapping and some rough and rowdy, though careful, hugs. And Nicholas had been there beside him the whole time.

Danny scowled at his drink. “It’s too tart this time of year.”

“I like it tart,” Nicholas said.

Danny had the sudden desire to know what cider would taste like on Nicholas’s lips, and had to stop himself from staring at them.

Nicholas cleared his throat. “We need to talk.”

This is where he tells you he’s going back to London, he thinks, but all he said was, “Eh?”

“It seems,” Nicholas began. He became very interested in his own mug, turning it this way and that. “It seems there’s little need for me here anymore.”

“You’re leaving.” He kept his tone as flat as he could.

“What? Well, possibly. Yes. But only if you—only—I mean, if you wish to stay, of course, I would understand, this being your home, and I would then stay here. If you wanted.”

Danny was confused. “I’m confused,” he said.

Nicholas took a gulp of his drink. “There is so much out there, Danny. So much I never knew existed, and I was thinking—“

“You mean like dragons?”

“Well, yes, or…something.”

“Sorcerers?”

Nicholas laughed. “Quite possibly. The point is we do not know what is out there until we find it. And who better to protect the innocent from…from monsters and the like than someone who’s faced them?”

“You did slay a dragon,” Danny points out.

Danny realized Nicholas had not stopped looking at him, but his hands couldn’t seem to stay still, straightening his drink, fumbling with his bowl of stew. He was curious as to what was making the other man so nervous. Nicholas was primed for a great adventure. He was a bona fide dragon slayer. Tales would be told of his heroic deeds.

“We did, Danny. You helped me.”

“I did some,” he conceded, but still he felt the thudding of his heart, possibly breaking. 

“I could not have done it without you. I will not—cannot do it without you.”

“You want me to come with you?”

“Of course, what did you think I meant?”

“You want me to come with you.”

Nicholas smiled. “Yes. Unless you’d rather stay here. We could…I could apply to the Lord when he returns to see if he needs another in service, perhaps after recent events he could see his way to-”

“You would stay with me?”

Understanding, or something quite like it, dawns on Nicholas’s face. Danny is grateful the other man is smart enough to figure out whatever he lacks the strength to ask. He leans over the table until their hands are very nearly touching. “I want to be wherever you are, Danny. Though I think we could have a grand time out hunting…”

“Sorceresses.”

“Or trolls.”

“Witches—oh, we have one of those here already, don’t we?”

“Aunt Thatcher is not a witch,” Nicholas said, laughing.

“Looks like a witch.”

“She is simply a healer.”

“Talks like a witch.”

“Well, yes, that she does.” Nicholas looked at him nervously. “What do you say?”

Danny has to refrain from leaning all the way over and tasting Nicholas’s most likely tart-sweet lips, so close to not breaking was his heart. He smiled. “When do we leave?”

Delight lifted Nicholas's voice. “As soon as you are ready.”

“Let us away! I’m ready now.”

“To ride a horse.”

“Oh.” He thought. “Few more days, perhaps.”

**

[](http://goddessdster.livejournal.com/10835.html)

 


	10. The Good Knight-Errant (10/10)

Their packs were packed and the horses were groomed and ready.  Weapons sharpened and shined. The Andrews had promised to continue Doris’s training. Mugs of mead were raised well into the night. Nicholas and Danny had fallen into bed soon as they hit quarters. But despite the mead swimming about his head and the preparedness and absolute rightness he felt in what they were about to embark upon, Nicholas could not settle to sleep.

 

He was waiting for Danny to kiss him.

Every night for over fortnight now, Danny had waited until he’d thought Nicholas was asleep to lay a small kiss upon his neck. As they were done on the quiet, he hadn’t brought it up, not that he would know how to bring it up. But each kiss, chaste though it may be, sent shivers down to his belly, causing a most unusual stuttering in his chest, and he’d had to fight off the urge to turn around and…do…something to Danny.

He’d shared knight’s quarters since his childhood and had sometimes overheard the other men together, but discretion taught him to pretend he hadn’t. Now he wished he’d paid more attention to the bawdy tales told over fires, so he would know what to do. Nicholas hated the idea of attempting something without knowing what he was doing.

If it had not been for the kisses he would wish for no more than this—comfort, closeness, knowing his riding partner was by his side always, ready to face whatever adventure was in store. He loved Danny. He would die for Danny. He would slay one hundred dragons for Danny. And he thought perhaps Danny loved him. And that the closeness and comfort and knowledge that they would remain together forever, seeking out adventures, were what Danny wanted as well. But kisses were intimate things, shared between beloveds, promises for the future. Is that what Danny was telling him?

And why had he not kissed him yet?

The other man was too still, Nicholas realized. Danny must have learned enough of his habits to know Nicholas was not asleep yet. An experiment, then. Nicholas willed his body to relax, made the hand that had been—he now saw—squeezing Danny’s loosen, and deepened his breathing. When Danny breathed, “Nicholas” in his ear he fought the urge to answer. He felt Danny moving closer, wished for it so mightily, yearned deep in his gut, his groin tightening in anticipation, so when Danny’s lips made contact with his bare skin, he gasped.

His eyes flew open, but before Danny could break contact, Nicholas gripped the fingers under his and pressed them to his chest to better feel his pounding heart. “Danny,” he whispered. Another kiss then, more lingering and he could not not moan. Danny’s hand swept over his chest, down his trembling stomach to—oh. Oh. “Danny,” he said again, his voice thick, hoping it was enough, would say all the things he could not. Meanwhile Danny’s hand was…Danny’s hand…

“Laces,” Danny grumbled. 

“Wha-?”

“Why you got all them laces on your trousers?” he answered, voice slightly desperate sounding.

“Oh! I’ll…let me.” He knew how to undo laces, had been lacing and unlacing his own clothing since he was a small boy, but it all suddenly seemed very complicated, his fingers felt stiff and uncertain and knots were made and unmade between the two men fumbling. “Danny,” he said again, unable to stop the helpless laughter that escaped.

Danny’s hand stilled, resting against his stomach and Nicholas wanted to howl, except that he knew Danny wanted this…something…too. He continued working on his laces with trembling hands, refusing to be deterred now. That’s when he realized Danny’ hand had not left him, but was rubbing soothing circles over his stomach, attempting to calm him. Nicholas stopped, placed his hands over Danny’s, leaned back into the other man, and breathed. Danny’s hand slowed with his heartbeat. Nicholas could hear him whisper-breathing into his hair. “It need be no more than this. It’s all right. I ask no more than this.”

“Oh, Danny.” This time his fingers were nimble and his laces came undone as if of their own accord and Danny’s hand slid down and down and Nicholas reached back and pulled Danny’s head into his neck and Danny breathed in and rubbed with his lips and there was hardness hitting at his tailbone that he could not help but grind back into and his fingers played with Danny’s hair and ear and swept across his neck and Nicholas understood for once what all the moaning was about as stars burst behind his eyes and Danny gasped his name and traced it upon his skin with his tongue and Nicholas only had to turn his head and their lips met and—oh!—that was sweet that was so very very sweet and right and morning would come too soon.

**

Nicholas was checking the horses again. Danny tended the fire and let his partner feel as restless as he felt calm. One would think he would be the restless one, raring to go on their adventure, but Danny knew they were packed well, and weapons were at the ready, and so he felt calm and certain. Nicholas, on the other hand, seemed to need hundreds of details to attend to, so Danny let him attend to them.

He pulled some dried meat and bread out of the food bag. “Nicholas, come eat something.”

“A moment,” said with sounds of a struggle.

Danny glanced over to find the other man under Lily’s belly pulling something.

“What are you doing? Take her saddle off, let her rest.”

“Tightening. We cannot be too ready.” Nicholas crawled out from under his horse.  “Should something come up in the middle of the night, I want us to be ready to leave in a moment. Your fire’s too big.”

“We’re barely away from the village,” he said, laughing. “And you are thinking too much.”

“I want us to be safe.”

“We are safe. If we yelled loud enough, half the castle would come running.” He grabbed Nicholas’s hand and pulled. “Sit. Eat.”

“The same half would kill me if I let anything happen to you,” he grumbled as he sat down.

Danny felt irritation wash over him. “Can take care of myself.”

“I know that,” Nicholas said, smiling at him. “I do not know that the Andrews, or Missus Tiller, or even Doris, knows that, but I do.”

“What do the Andrews, Missus Tiller, and Doris have to do with this?”

“Just a handful of those who warned me if I let anything happen to you dot dot dot.”

“Dot dot what?”

“Meaning implied threat, you know, dot dot dot, fill in the blank with painful torturous imagery possibly involving evisceration or being drawn and quartered?”

“Oh.” Danny’s mind flashed on the notion, envisioning Nicholas tied to four horses ready to take off in different directions, the crowd chanting for his death, but from the edges of town, Danny would come galloping in on Gawain, sword flashing in the sun. “Nah. I’d rescue you.”

Nicholas’s eyes were soft and his lips canted just so when he looked at him. “Yes. You would.”

Danny leaned back and stared up at the sky. “Do we know where we’re going?”

“Ah. I was wondering when you’d ask.” At that he pulled a hand-drawn map from his belt and pointed to a spot next to some stick looking things. “This is where we are now.” Then he pointed to a spot nearer the top of the map where a curved line rested over some squiggly ones. “This is a village about three days north of here called Gruff.”

“Gruff?”

“Yes. They seem to be having a slight problem with their bridge.”

“It needs repairing?”

“No.”

“Is there a man guarding it who makes you answer his questions correctly or he sends you flying into a gorge?”

“Um…no, but that would be interesting. It seems there may be a troll living under it.”

“Troll!”

“I thought you’d like that.”

“Is he big and hairy?”

“Quite possibly. He has a tendency to eat anyone who attempts to cross.”

“That is. Amazing!” Danny thought for a bit, his heart thumping. “Why do you suppose they always want to eat people?”

“Perhaps you can ask him,” Nicholas said, laughing. “And be sure while we’re there to hear the stories of their talking goats.”

“Best. Quest. Ever.” Now Danny did not feel calm at all, but ready to go. Troll!

“It certainly looks to be a promising start.” Nicholas chewed his bread for a while, looking thoughtfully at the fire. He looked lean and beautiful in the light. Golden, even. 

Danny remembered now all the times Nicholas had told him he would not ever leave him. All the different ways he’d said the same thing over and over and Danny had been too dim to hear him. “What are you thinking?”

Nicholas looked at him. “I still think the fire is too big,” he said, almost apologetically.

Danny grabbed his arm and pulled him down to lie against his chest. “Leave it, Nicholas. It’s just a fire.” He felt the other man gradually relax against him. “So are we thinking swords or axes? Because I don’t think a giant pointy stick is going to do it.”

“Oh, axes definitely, much more power behind the stroke.”

“Hmm. May have to practice some.”

“We’ll do that first light tomorrow.”

Their voices fade and blend into all the night sounds of a crackling (slightly too big) fire, chirping crickets, hooting owls, and screaming foxes. And the night was heavy. And the night was deep. 

And the adventure begins.


End file.
